Spider's Sanctuary
by PanzyBears
Summary: Peter Parker's world is crashing down around him. With forgotten memories, unknown parents and gaining emancipation. He barely has time to be Spider-man. Peter must deal with the problems adding up, all while making sure the city doesn't fall apart. (Superfamily AU, momma!Widow)
1. Widow's Night, Parker's Morn

**Welcome to the start of this Spider-man story. Or is it an Avengers story?**

 **Anyway, I'd like to thank those who read for doing so. And I hope some of you leave some reviews. No flames please. Just tell me where I could improve, so I can work on that. Tell me what you think, in PG rating of course. Maybe PG-13, but stay away from the raunchy stuff, Nobody wants to read something filled with profanity.**

 **He he, _watch your profanity._**

 **...Sorry.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything. If I did, there would be more angst and romance between unlikely characters. And I'd make Iron Man wear a pink suit, just because I could.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter One: A Widow's Night, A Parker's Morn**_

* * *

Natasha Romanoff stared out at the sundown in melancholic silence.

Not that anyone could tell it was a sorrowful silence. To everyone else, she seemed deceptively relaxed. Being able to fool most people was a skill she was grateful she had. It was times like these that she needed peace most.

Her fiery hair flowed behind her loosely in the wind. The gentle breeze nipping at her face with butterfly kisses. The world around her was loud and obnoxious. People going about their days happily, made her nauseous and angry.

How could all these people have such easy lives. How can they go around ignoring all the pain people like her suffer through.

She lives a painful existence. Had since she was a young girl.

Natasha has long since accepted the fact that she would be the one getting the short end of every stick. But she endures for the sake of all the ignorant people in the world. So they can live those easy lives. So _his_ life was easy.

She often wished she could live a normal life. Where she has a family to wake up to. Where her kid - just one because that is all she needs - calls her mom and goes to her for comfort. Where she grows old watching her son or daughter eventually have their own family.

She wants grandkids to spoil too, dammit.

She had the chance after she escaped the Red Room. A chance to be free and normal. But, she gave all that up when she sent _him_ away.

Natasha often wonders how he has grown up. Her son, who she loves with all her heart, won't know who his mother is. His real mother. Will he grow up with the support needed from a mother? Will he turn out a good man? Those are questions she has no answers for.

Even she doesn't know where he is. She lost track of him after he entered the system. When she joined Shield, she took every opportunity to look for him. Searching every database of every government.

They had parted ways in Russia, from there he was sent to Japan for two years before being shipped around Europe. His name was changed with every country he ended up in.

She had named him Petrovich Natanov Romanov. And the last time she saw him, he was just a babe. His baby blues turning her green. And his hair a reddish-brown.

Natasha remembers that day every night. His stricken face covered in tears, still haunts her dreams. The necklace she gave him dangling from its' tied position on his wrist. A black widow pendant, how fitting.

Determined to find him, she followed every lead. She searched every country he was ever in. Always finding out she was too late and he'd already been moved.

In Japan, he lived in an upscale apartment of a Tokyo modelling couple. His name then was Kuroi Mibōjin **[1]** They gave him away after too many late nights that affected their work.

In Scotland, he was named Nathaniel Bates. He was under the care of a middle aged woman who lived in the suburbs. She died of a heart attack after 5 months.

From there, he was sent to Spain. Where, for a year, he was named Pierce Romero and lived in the foothills of Granada. An aspiring artist had found him in an alleyway and took him in. After 9 months, the artist died in a studio fire, the report stating Pierce received minor burns on his arm.

The list went on. Everytime he made it to a new place, he lost them. The last place she could find a lead on was in Paris, France. He was sent to an orphanage and stayed their until and international couple adopted him at seven years old.

After that, she couldn't find a single thing on him. And time went on. Between doing missions with Clint and the agency, she lost the time to continue her search. With the things adding up, she barely had any time to herself.

And then the world changed. With superheroes coming back to life and billionaires flying around in metal suits. Heroes and villains emerging from the unknown, Shield became overworked and their forces spread thin.

Then gods fought on earth and the sky opened up, for aliens to come out in an invading party. Becoming a hero was never an option for her. How could she stand in the spot-tight, when her entire past was filled with darkness.

Now, she sits atop the Avengers tower and watches the sun go below the skyline. It was only weeks after Tony had faced off against Extremis soldiers and all of his suits blown to pieces.

New York was still tense though. After having aliens attack and the usual crime, A new hero emerged. And with him, came a foiled apocalypse. Dr. Curt Connors had thought to change the city into the same reptilian beings as him. The city watched in terror as he had rampaged through the streets. Watched as he started to prepare the change.

As they watched the lizard, they also watched another. A hometown hero who was fighting for them, even though he was heavily injured.

All the Avengers were out of the city during the attack. Natasha had been on the helicarrier with Clint at the time. They were too far away to make a difference.

So, all they could do was watch the live footage. She watched as Spider-man was taken down by police, only for him to incapacitate every one of them. The police chief, Cpt. Stacy, the only one still standing.

They all watched the screen as they stared each other down. Even though the vigilante was unmasked, the camera couldn't get a shot of his face. Stacy must have changed his mind when he let him go, only to be shot by a trigger happy officer.

Natasha wondered how Spider-man could still walk after a shot to the thigh. It must of been painful, yet he put it behind him for the people.

The fight on top of the Oscorp building was hectic. When the antenna came crashing down, the footage lost sight of the hero. It was only later, when he was found next to the body of Captain Stacy, them he disappeared for good.

As the sun finally went down and night came upon her, she watched the city light up. Idly, she wondered if someone was going to cook or it was takeout.

All the avengers had moved into the tower. Each with their own floors, because it was Tony Stark who built the damn thing. She didn't think she would need an entire floor to herself. Half of it was empty. She didn't have a lot of material things. Everything she had of importance was usually kept on her person. Which wasn't much, considering it was only a matching necklace to the one she gave her son, and a photo of the two of them.

That was all she had of him. All she had of the most important person to her. Just thinking about it made her even sadder.

A depressed sigh escaped her lips and she was glad no one was around. The single tear that fell from her eye was all the reason she needed stay alone today.

Why today you ask?

Well, that is because today was the day her son was born. May 3rd, 2000. **[2]**

It has been thirteen long years since she has seen him. She would do anything for just a glimpse of him. To see him smile, and to hear his laugh.

His laugh is something she often wonders about. What does it sound like? Do his and her laugh sound similar? Does he smile the same?

"Where are you Petrov?" she asks into the night. Not expecting a reply.

Never expecting a reply.

She'd given up hoping a long time ago. Now, all she can do is wait and see. Though it feels like that is all she is doing.

Waiting for the truth the come. Waiting for him to be revealed.

She hasn't left out the possibility of him being an enemy. That thought still has her lost. What would she do if she had to fight him? Could she fall back on her training and ignore it, or would she join him?

Sometimes she just doesn't know. Only time will tell.

* * *

He was dreaming about her again. The redheaded woman with the same eyes as him.

Her face always seemed blurry to him. And for the life of him, he couldn't remember her appearance after waking up. But one thing always stood out. During the dreams, she would be looking down at him, a loving smile on her lips. Her eyes filled with tears that rolled down her cheeks.

She would say something to him, but it was muffled to his ears. He had learned to read lips soon after the dreams started. Which was sometime after his ninth birthday. HIs parents had just left him with his aunt and uncle, just before they died.

The dreams had been an escape from reality back then. When he didn't have to deal with his parents deaths. They helped him get past the trauma and grief.

He never told anyone of the dreams. What would they think of him? Dreaming of some woman he doesn't even know.

It was just one of the many things that were odd about him. Like how he could speak four other languages besides English. Or how he had a burn mark on his back shoulder. From a fire he doesn't remember.

One thing has always been certain in his life though. And that was the metallic necklace that tay upon his chest.

He doesn't remember ever getting it, just that it had always been there. A constant soothing presence only he could feel.

Peter does know, that the woman in his dreams has one exactly like it. She would always show him it after talking to him. The words she would say mostly the same.

 _Mother loves you, Petrov._ She would say. Her nimble fingers dancing over his cheeks, A featherlight touch, as if not to break him.

She would shower him in love and affection. Most of the time, this was when the dreams would end.

With him having too many questions and not getting any answers.

 _I will protect you Petrov._ She would say, standing in front of him as unknown people attacked her. Her Russian, a deadly purr as she danced between the attackers.

 _Do not worry, Mother is here._ The woman was bleeding from her lip and cheek. A swollen eye starting to form, And she winced against his light touch.

 _I will find you again Petrov._ She showed all her emotions to him. Whether it was happiness or sadness. Even in pain, she didn't hide anything from him.

 _Petrov._

 _...Petrov._

… _..Petrov!_

" _Peter!"_ a yell woke him from his slumber. "Get up, it's time for school."

The young man under the covers groaned and struggled to wake himself up. His aunt had just screamed at him and it wouldn't do to anger her. She was scary sometimes.

He lifted himself up and stumbled to the bathroom. Tripping over a shirt on the floor, he silently cursed. Being Spider-man really sucked on his need for sleep.

Spider-man was out until three a.m. last night patrolling the streets. Only four hours of sleep was going to cost him later, he knew it.

Good thing it was a friday, otherwise he wouldn't make it to the end of the school day.

He felt the cool morning breeze against his bare chest and shivered lightly. It seemed that it was going to be a cold day. He made a mental note to wear a hoodie, as he walked into the bathroom.

Going through his usual morning routine, Peter took the time to study himself in the mirror.

It has to be said that he doesn't look like Richard or Mary Parker. His green eyes a complete opposite of both their brown ones. Only his reddish-brown hair gave him any resemblance to them. That and his intellect.

Peter was smart.

No, it is not arrogance. Just a factual mental statement.

There is a difference.

Peter had always been lean. His muscles meant for quick movements and graceful steps. He was normally graceful, just was sometimes clumsy as well.

Okay, so he _had_ been pretty clumsy at one time. It's just that now he wasn't. Now, he had the grace of a dancer in every movement. But, that is because he took dance lessons, once upon a time.

Dancing was something that had come easily to him. He was a natural dancer. It seemed like he was born for dancing.

And science, but that is a whole other story he'd rather not get into. Thinking about himself is exhausting, who can think about themselves this long?

Narcissists maybe, but who else could do this for so long.

He scoffed and shook his head, spitting the toothpaste into the sink. The spider necklace bouncing softly off his chest. He ran a finger over the shape of it.

Peter could draw the thing from memory with how many times he has stared at it. Its' metal casing, protecting the dark jewel in the middle,

It was shaped as a Black Widow spider. He knew, because he looked it up.

"Peter, hurry up!" Aunt May yelled to him. "It's 7:15, you're going to be late!"

"Ah, shit-" he cursed. Stumbling out the door.

"I heard that!" he rolled his eyes. "And don't roll your eyes mister."

He stopped in awe, how did she know that? She was in a totally different room than him.

"Because i'm your aunt, that's how!"

Peter snorted, before muttering under his breath, "Who's the one with super powers again?"

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" he shook his head and got dressed. Before long he was fully clothed and making his way to the kitchen. His aunt was sitting at the table. He grabbed a piece of toast from the counter and got a glass of water.

"I have an extra shift tonight," she started."so you're gonna have to order out kiddo."

He raised an eyebrow and nodded, "I'll probably go to Gwen's after school anyways."

She peered at him curiously, "Gwen, huh?"

"Y-yeah, what about it?" he stuttered. Wondering why she was suddenly interested.

"Nothing, nothing," she smiled innocently at him.

He rolled his eyes before grabbing his backpack from the chair and kissing her cheek. "Goodbye."

She smiled, "See ya later."

Peter made his way out the door and down the step of the apartment building. They were on the fifth floor and walking was easier.

He left his home in a good mood. Too bad that it would be the last time he did so again for a long time.

* * *

 **[1]** Kuroi Mibōjin means Black Widow in Japanese

 **[2]** So, I don't know when Peter Parker's actual birthday is, if anyone knows, tell me?


	2. The Last Parker

So **here is chapter two, if you left a review on chapter one, thanks for doing so.**

 **Make sure to do the same with this one. Tell me what to work on and I will try to work it into my writing. This chapter was written in advance and will go up after I've published the first.**

 **As it is, this chapter is twice the size of the last one, sitting pretty at 5k words. I just started writing and didn't stop for like, an hour or two.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Spider-man or The Avengers. I weep in sorrow everyday. Okay, that was an lie. I don't weep, I cry like a _MAN!_...shout out to those who understand the reference.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 2: The Last Parker**_

* * *

Peter stared at the fresh tombstone before him. His eyes constantly tracing and retracing the words written upon it. The stone with a smooth finish marked the final resting place of his last remaining relative.

The unassuming stone didn't do her justice. She deserved better than this. She deserved a grave worthy of a queen. A wall of dedication. A flaming sendoff, meant for kings.

May Parker shouldn't be in a graveyard filled with all the others gone from the world. She wasn't meant to be just another stone in a field filled with stones.

She should be on a hill, overlooking a lake. A giant tree giving her shade and most importantly, peace.

He'd run out of tears hours ago. Never leaving the site of her burial. The ceremony had been hard on him. With no support, he trudged through the sorrowful evening. The condolences of people he's never met, not helping in the slightest. Her funeral was small, not even twenty people in attendance.

All their meaningless apologies angered him. He didn't need any 'sorry's'. His only family was dead and he was completely alone.

Gwen had tried to help him, but she couldn't. She left with her family hours ago with the his promise of calling her.

When he left home that day, he never knew that it would be the last time he would see his aunt alive and well. While he was at school, she got caught in a shootout between the police and some gangsters. The police department wrote him an apology letter.

A damn letter!

He didn't even get the decency of a in person visit. Just a 'sorry we killed your family, CPS **[1]** will send someone to put you in an orphanage' letter.

Peter was so angry, and all the meaningless shit that had happened since, wasn't helping. The orphanage he was put into sucked. His stuff was almost stolen three times in the first 2 days.

He was forced to see a shrink that would pry into parts of his life that were private. Asking him questions that didn't even make sense half the damn time.

 _Do you want to hurt somebody? Have you ever self-harmed? Are you feeling suicidal?_

The shrink had no tact at all. Peter wasn't going to tell her if he was having those thoughts. Why would he do that? Giving away personal thoughts like that. Talk about an invasion of privacy.

The last thing he needs is some schmuck ruining his fragile psyche.

Aunt May's funeral was paid for by the police department though. They did it out of some misguided redemption attempt. It wouldn't work, he would never forgive them. They killed his family, They made him an orphan, again..

He shivered as he felt it begin to rain. The chilly water falling from the cloudy sky. It was like the heavens were crying for him because he couldn't cry anymore.

His mind was numb. For once, every thought had gone silent and nothing remained. His eyes were glassy and dead. The light extinguished like a snuffed out flame. Not even the burning embers remained,

Peter's world was crashing around him. Everything he'd ever known, gone in a passing moment. Not even a warning shout to prepare him. He was left exposed and vulnerable. And people always took advantage of that. He'd been approached by two recruiters already about joining their organizations.

They'd give him a future they said. They would support him they said. Join us and we'll make sure you are never hurt again.

That last one seemed fishy to him. Like evil army, fishy.

He turned them all down though. His enhanced DNA would eventually cause a fuss that would in turn cause him strife.

Peter didn't need anymore strife. He's had enough of it already. The teen wished for a better life. One where he lived with his family. All together and living in peace. They'd be around to see him graduate. He'd go to college, find a girl, get married, have kids, and then grown old watching them,

And life would be perfect. Perfectly simple.

The sun was starting to set when he eventually left the graveyard. He made his way into the city, The subway ride was long and smelly, an old lady let her dog poop on the floor. His mind elsewhere, stuck in the past.

Remembering the better parts of his life as he went. His memories the only sanctuary from the pain. He could talk to aunt May all day in his head.

That was another thing, he seemed to have developed a voice in his head that sounded like her. It would pop up at random times, simply making observations or scolding him.

 _Stop slouching._

He snorted, but straightened up alittle. The teen took every chance at being close to normal again.

 _Better._

He rolled his eyes. Why did it have to nitpick the things that didn't matter?

It might seem like he was crazy, but if it meant he got to hear her voice again, then certify him already. It was a reprieve that he wasn't going to give up anytime soon.

The orphanage he was set up in, was in queens. Only a little bit away from his old apartment. Everything had been put in storage so that he could claim it at his majority. He had been looking into getting emancipated from the state. So he could live on his own and away from others. He had a new plan for the future since his last one was thrown out of order.

He would go to school till lunch, before going to work. After that he would go out as Spider-man if he had the time. This schedule was starting the coming monday. It would only be a matter of time before he was on his own. The future was bleak, but he would make the best of it in time.

Peter hadn't had time to grieve fully yet. He'd been putting it off as to not break down. It wasn't like he could anyway. The teenager wasn't comfortable enough around the house of strangers he was in.

Music came as a sanctuary to the teen. It was something that didn't need any thoughts and kept his brain occupied. Delaying the breakdown that was sure to come. People listen to sad music when they are sad, but that was stupid. It would only make them worse off. He didn't listen to any depressing sounds.

He blasted heavy metal and rock. The bursting drums beating loudly in his chest. The riff of a guitar solo, screeching through his ears. He could only feel the music ringing through his head, keeping everything else at bay. Peter didn't give the sorrow a chance to set in.

The lyrics of ' _Kick Me' by Sleeping with Sirens_ , rang through his head. He lost himself in the music. Blocking out the world around was easy this way.

 _Kick me when i'm DOWN!_

He looked up when he found himself at the steps of the orphanage. His daily life had become a pale imitation of its former self. Spider-man hadn't been seen in over a week and the rest of New York was getting worried. He was their own hero and they were worried.

Well, worried about the crime rates, but worried nonetheless. He snorted. They didn't care about him either, they had their own lives to deal with.

In the grand scale of things, Peter Parker didn't matter to anybody. Nobody cared if he died, or got injured. Nobody was left to care about him. He didn't get the luxury of sympathy.

He was the last Parker alive. No family left, not even a distant relative. The last of his line. All the hopes and dreams of his family now planted firmly on his shoulders, weighing him down. Everything they ever hoped for him, now much more important than before.

The thought made his shoulders sag lower. All the pain he felt making him feel heavy. The guilt of not being able to help them, causing his legs to drag. His eyes constantly shadowed in misery.

He ignored the others as he went into the bathroom. His backpack, carrying his Spider-man suit, felt as if it weighed more than he could lift. Locking the door, he turned of the faucet, and began to splash water on his face.

His hands gripped the sink tightly, knuckles turning white. It seemed like forever ago that he'd looked in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were all too visible. He was paler than normal and looked like exhaustion personified.

Some time during the walk, his necklace had slipped out of his shirt. Two new additions sat upon the chain.

They were Aunt May's and Uncle Ben's wedding rings. Aunt May had always worn them around her neck to keep her husband close. Now, they sat with him in hopes of them doing the same.

It was a foolish thought, yet he couldn't take them off. He would go into a panic if the weight wasn't on his chest. The only amount of comfort and stability he had left, and he didn't want to lose it.

Shaking off his thoughts, he went back to his bunk and laid down. His right leg lying of the the side of the bed, his foot on the ground. Peter stared up at the ceiling, not seeing anything around him.

 _Sulking will get you nowhere, honey._

"I know that," he muttered. Not even phased by the sudden intrusion.

 _Then why are you doing it?_

"Because I can," he stated. "that's why."

 _You're talking to yourself again. People will think you're crazy._

"Let them think that then, It's not like I care at all." was his smart ass response.

It was true though, he didn't care what others think anymore. He stopped soon after she died. Peter didn't have enough energy or motivation to care about people's' opinions. He wishes that they would just leave him alone already. Let him get through this his own way.

The dreams he'd been having, didn't help him either. He was remembering parts of his past, that didn't seem real. He hoped that they were just nightmares, and not actual memories.

The differences behind the dream memories and the ones he had with the Parkers, were that the dream one's felt more real. More believable. Like those things actually happened to him.

He didn't want that though, because if they were true, his memories had been tampered with. Changed to suit someone's purpose and that was not a comforting thought. Who could have wanted to change him so drastically.

If they did change his memories, they failed somewhere along the line with some parts. He doesn't ever remember learning russian or japanese. Peter just knew them on an instinctual level, like he lived with them constantly being used around him and picked up in return.

His life was changing too drastically for him. Too many things all happening at once for his comfort. He didn't know if he could handle anymore change.

* * *

A week later, we find young Peter sitting on his bed, doing homework. He had a chemistry test coming up and it wouldn't do for him to fail. Science was something that could give him a better future. He was looking for an internship at different companies in hopes of getting better credentials for future jobs.

Peter had started taking a fast track for his schooling, Utilizing his full intellect to advance grades faster. He was hoping to finish up his high school work soon and start working on college courses.

Not that he was bragging. He was just smart enough for it to happen. The school officials had started throwing the word genius around when it came to him. Saying he had the chance of being put in with those of great intellect if he work hard enough. He could be as great as Bruce Banner or Tony Stark one day.

He had scoffed lightly when he heard that. He didn't think that would ever happen, those guys were way ahead of him.

 _Stop lying to yourself Peter, they are only telling the truth._

'...whatever." he muttered. Intent on ignoring everything besides his work. The other boy in his dorm gave him a funny look, but eventually went back to whatever it was he was doing.

 _Told you they'd think you're crazy. Maybe you can be a crazy scientist?_

He rolled his eyes, now his mind was making fun of him. Great. Just what he needed, a sarcastic asshole voice inside his head. One who uses Aunt May's voice as a guies. Some of the things it says are dangerously explicit.

Like that time he heard it curse worse than a sailor after a car almost hit him. He didn't remember hearing half the words it said.

A knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the house mother standing in the doorway. A package in her hand.

She was a short woman. In her late 40s, she looked like a caring woman. She was plump and had long brown hair with streaks of grey. There was an aura around her that made her feel welcoming.

"Peter," she handed him the package. "this arrived for you a couple minutes ago."

He gave her a grateful look as he took it from her, "Thanks."

She smiled warmly at him before turning to the other boy in the room, giving him a stern look. "Why did I hear about you skipping school today mister?"

The boy didn't get a chance to answer as she dragged him out while giving him a lecture about punctuality and making sure he arrived early from now on.

Peter snorted softly, that woman could be scary sometimes. He'd only been here two weeks and he was sure she had a demon side kept hidden.

He looked down at the package in his hands and felt around it, trying to get an idea of what was inside. Only his name was on the front. It's black lettering sticking out on the mustard yellow paper. He open the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. Then dumped the rest of the contents out.

On his bed was now a coin the size of a dollar piece. A key to something, he didn't know what. The key was old and looked worn from use. The coin had a symbol on it. Of what, he couldn't make out. The groves had been worn down to a smooth surface.

And finally, there was a bus pass with the word Roosevelt written on it. He wondered about the stuff but ignored them in favor of the letter he held in his hand. Unfolding the paper, Peter began to read. It was only a small note, with a bunch of numbers at the bottom.

 _Peter,_

 _I'm sure you have many questions, and I understand that. What I'm about to tell you is only a small part of an entire truth. That truth is about you, Peter. I can't tell you everything in a single letter but I can tell you this._

 _You're adopted Pete._

 _I know this may be a shock to you, but I'm sure that you have been having doubts. And those come in the form of your dreams. They feel like a part of you don't they?_

 _Those dreams are a part of your past. A past that was filled with many things that would hurt you._

 _A past I tried to have you forget._

 _Admittedly, that wasn't my best idea. But, I did so in order to help you. You would wake in the middle of the night with nightmares on the good days, others were far worse._

 _That is all I can say in this letter, if you want to know more. Go to the coordinates. Bring the coin and the key. The bus pass with get you into the building. You will know what to do with them when you get there._

 _Trust your dreams Peter, they are they key to everything._

 _Loving you, dearly,_

 _Mary Parker_

Peter sat frozen as he went over the letter again and again. He couldn't believe this. Why did he get a letter from his mother who was supposed to be dead? Why now? What happened to him that she wanted to change?

The numbers at the bottom were indeed coordinates. They landed somewhere near the New York Hall of Science **[2]** , which wasn't to far from where he was. Only a couple minutes of foot.

He checked the time and decided to go take a look. If his mother wanted him to do something, he was going to do it. He didn't know if she was still as dead as he thought, but he was going to find out. He gathered everything into his backpack.

Peter grabbed his pack, and put on his shoes. He took the step, two at a time. On the way down, he ran into the house mother. Only stopping long enough to bake some half ass excuse as to why he was leaving.

He used his webshooters to cross the city faster. He felt too anxious to sit for a long period of time. This was his mother - well, adopted mother - she was changing his life. It felt as if that was all that was happening to him lately.

When he arrived at the coordinates, he looked around for anything to tip him off. Everything seemed normal. Many buildings and nothing out of the ordinary. He walked around a building before coming upon a marking on the wall. It was the same marking as the one on the coin.

It was an eagle. A shield covering its body, protecting it. Oh great, Shield. This was going to be a bigger pain than he thought it would.

He walked up to the symbol and ran a hand over, jumping back when the wall moved to show a touch pad underneath it.

"Identification please." the voice was automated. A seemingly robotic tone in nature.

 _Well that's amusing._

"..shut up." he muttered before grabbing the bus pass and putting it on the pad. He only had to wait a few seconds before the pad lit up in entrance.

"Access Granted, welcome back Agent Parker." Okay, so another thing that his mother kept from him. He wondered if his father was an agent as well. Or maybe he was just a regular scientist, who got killed because of a serum he was working on.

Everything was becoming all too convienent. He made his way inside. It was dark, only a few lights in the hallway he was in. When he finally found a room, it was too dark to see anything. He stood, looking into black as he tried and failed to see anything.

A podium like object stood to the side. It only reached his waist and had a slot in the middle. Looking closely, he noticed it was the same size as the coin. Pulling said object out, he set it above the slot. He lowered it into the slot and waited.

He heard a whirring sound, before a click sounded and the coin shot back up into the air. Only his fast reflexes stopping him from losing an eye and catching the flying coin.

Then the building start up, its lights flickering on and machines starting up.

He looked around the room. It seemed to be a part of a lab. Halfway to the other end of the room the lab area was cut off by a white divider. Its contents hidden behind a door. As he walked closer to it, he noticed that a name was written on the wall. A plaque in acknowledgement.

 _Dr. Mary Parker, 004._

So this was his mother's office. He didn't know what the number where for, but he was sure he was about to find out. He twisted the knob and failed to hold back the curse when it didn't open.

It was locked.

But, he had a key! He should have checked that first.

Putting the key in and twisting it all the way to the left, the door clicked open. He shook his head ruefully. Now was not the time for such pointless mistakes. He shielded his eyes when the light turned on.

The room was messy, books filled the shelves all around the room. Cluttered papers littered the desk, all haphazardly stacked into piles. An old leather chair peeked out from behind the mess. The room smelled odd, like a mixture of cigar smoke and vinegar. But a hint of flowery perfume could be detected under it all.

 _Feels homey. Like coming home to a drunkard._

"...How would you even know that?" he questioned. When he didn't get a response he made his way over to the chair, pulling it out and sitting down.

What was he supposed to do know? The answers he was promised not showing themselves. With that in mind, he began to snoop.

Searching through drawers and the papers. His hand bumped the computer next to him and it flickered on. He ignored it and continued. The top drawer was filled with various office supplies. The second filled with blacked out papers. But, the third and final drawer held promise.

Files on a project she was working on filled the top of it. But, space seemed to be missing in compared to the other drawers. Tapping the bottom, he heard a hollow echo. He ran his hand over the bottom and felt something like a lever. Pulling it open a hidden compartment.

 _Not cliche at all. Was a popular place for hidden compartments at one time._

"Thanks for the useless history lesson." he grumbled.

 _You're welcome._

She sounded innocent, but he knew that wasn't true. "...Smart ass."

Inside the compartment was only three things. A pistol sat harmlessly next to a magazine filled with bullets. He didn't know the brand, he probably should though. Next to the gun was a shield badge. His mother displayed proudly in the picture. Her hair tied in professional bun and a serious look in her eyes.

He picked the badge up and ran his fingers over it. This was something of his mother's. Something that he never knew about her and was only just now finding out. Peter couldn't help but feel as proud as her in the picture. She looked like she finally accomplished a dream. He put the badge in his hoodie pocket, before looking at the last item inside.

It was a flash drive.

It was small and unassuming. Shaped to look like a bracelet charm. A string tied to it. He had to know what was on it. Putting it in the computer, he opened the files. A folder of documents was passed up for the video file on the drive. He loaded the video and clicked play.

His mother appeared, her eyes red and puffy. She smiled sadly at the camera and he felt himself smile back.

" _Peter,"_ her voice scratchy with overuse. " _If you are watching this, then the worst has happened. Things beyond my control have started to take place and your father and I have been caught up in it. And because we are gone from your life, you have nobody to tell you about yourself."_

He swallowed and prepared himself for the worst. Tears welling up in the corner of his eyes.

" _I must apologize to you Peter, I have kept things from you that you should know. "_ she smiled sadly. " _In truth, you didn't come into our care until you were seven years old. You were brought in to Shield after an agent had found you during a raid on an experimental facility."_

 _ **Oh great.**_

'Shut it!' he replied mentally. An experimental facility? What happened to him?

" _The scientists running the operation, were altering your DNA. Enhancing it more than it already was. Your original DNA was enhanced with a serum that Shield had never seen before. I think you got it from your birth mother. But there was a problem with it, your enhanced properties were dormant and the people experimenting on you, were trying to activate it. We don't know what will happen when the DNA activates or if it even will. But don't be surprised to be 'super'."_

This was so messed up. Was the spider bite just the key needed for his DNA activation? Why a spider? He had so many questions still.

Peter hoped she could answer them.

" _Director Fury had heard about your case and was having doubts about parts of the agency. He decided to hide you away for safekeeping. And I happened to be the best choice. We had a connection you and I. You had instantly warmed up to me and I had felt all my reservations break with your beautiful smile. Your could light up a room with that thing."_

She paused for a second, the sound of childish laughter ringing through the speakers. He distantly realized that was him. She smiled softly.

" _There you are now, full of happiness. Too bad it came with a price. Most of your memories had been altered before you were cleared to leave. Your pain was too much on your young mind. Nightmares had plagued you nights on end. Barely allowing you any sleep. Blocking your memories was one of the hardest things i have ever had to do. But, worry not, they will come back in time. After you have matured and aged."_

She looked of to the side, before shaking her head slowly. A tear leaking out of her eye.

" _My time is up. For what it's worth, I am sorry Peter. I have compiled all the documents we have on you in the folder on this drive. Every dream you ever told us, every test we had done. Even some ideas of who your real mother may be. And finally, take my badge. If you ever need help, Nick will help you. He is the director of Shield and can give you what you need. I love you Pete."_

The video cut off and he felt numb. His entire life was being turned upside down for the second time in a month. He took a breath before putting it in the back of his mind.

He clicked on the documents and pulled them up one by one. Reports about his health and wellbeing, assessments of his value in the future. Options on his recruitment and further documents all filled the screen.

The list of names was short, names he didn't recognize. People he didn't know and it made him sad. He didn't even know the name of his real mother, but he did know that he couldn't find green eyes on any of the list's occupants.

He didn't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved about that.

 _It's time to go Peter._

He checked the time and it was indeed time to leave. It was almost past nine and he didn't feel like dealing with an angry house mother. Packing up his stuff, he put the flashdrive in his pocket and pushed the chair in. Closing the door behind him after turning off the light, he made his way towards the exit.

Peter would come back when he got the chance. The building was abandoned so he didn't have to worry about somebody stumbling across the room. Maybe he would make it his headquarters. The Spider Lair.

He always wanted a lair. Who said only bad guys got to have them. At least it wasn't a dungeon or the sewers, but a space-station would have been cool as well.

Sorry, wrong universe. **[3]**

On his way out, he didn't see the blinking red light on the access pad.

* * *

A man say behind a desk, staring off into nothing.. He lips twisted into a small smile. His one eye softening as he watched footage of a young man in a empty lab. His normally covered eye, acting as a view platform. **[4]**

He smirked, "So you've finally started to remember, huh?"

He replaced his eyepatch as a knock on his door sounded.

"Enter."

A redhead woman entered, the grace of a panther in every step. She was his best agent. But, he was still the best spy. He knew of her continued search for her lost son.

The lost son that so happened to be the boy he was just watching. He was keeping it from her. To protect them both. Things in Shield were about to go haywire and he needed her focused.

"You are being put on a recovery mission with the good Captain. While you are there, I need some data from the database, is that understood."

"Yes sir." she replied.

"Good, debrief starts in twenty minutes, be there." he dismissed her. When the door closed, he switched back to the video footage in his eye. The boy's features so like his mothers, almost none of his fathers in him. The green of his eyes, reminding Fury that he was keeping such a big secret from an important agent.

He can only hope she doesn't kill him when she finds out. This was a new leather trenchcoat, fitted to his liking. Hidden pockets and all.

It would be a shame if it was ruined.

* * *

 **[1]** Child Protective Services.

 **[2]** For those who don't know, it is an actual place. Look it up.

 **[3]** Justice League HQ, it's literally a space-station. How cool is that?

 **[4]** In multiple universes, Nick Fury's eye acted as an advantage in the field. Who's to say it cannot be used for video watching purposes and linked to his brain? Or something of the sort...

 **Peter has developed a voice inside his head. It's actually very common with people who have been through constant grief and trauma. The voice is actually going to play a big part in his development. During Andrew Garfield's second movie as Spider-man, an hallucination of a dead man was used. This will be similar.**


	3. The Winter Soldier

**My story is an AU story. That means that I can change and do whatever I want. That is where the term** ** _Alternate Universe_** **comes into play.**

 **Peter is only 13, and he had already fought the lizard. That means the spider biting process was moved up to fit the story. I plan on taking aspects from all the Spider-man reboots and adding them into this story.**

 **Think of him as Tom Hollands character, just at a younger age. With Andrew Garfield's quirks and Tobey Maguire's natural awkwardness. All three wound up into one big personality fest, with Holland's face and body proportions...that sounded weird.**

 **Don't be surprised if something happens differently from the originals.**

 _ **Hence AU!**_

 **Sorry about the mini rant. It's been a long week and most questions will be answered during the story...sometime...**

 **This chapter will give some fluff and a love interest for Natasha. I honestly like the pairing that i'm working on for her. They get along better than she does with others. Plus, they make way more sense.**

 **Disclaimer: PanzyBears does not own anything, except his name. Which was given to him by his mother...Or was it?**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 3: The Winter Soldier_**

* * *

The explosion rattled her more than she would like. Even behind the mass of muscle known as Steve, her bones still shook.

She was used to surviving things like this. But, it didn't help that he landed on her. Sure, he put his shield before them and took the brunt of it. But, still!

Being landed on by Captain America hurt. She just needed that to be known for future reference.

Natasha hopes that some other lucky Avenger gets the pleasure of it happening to them. Just so she could laugh at it after.

Arriving at a ship in the middle of the ocean, they had separated in order to complete the operation quicker.

It was supposed to be a clean mission. No explosions were supposed to happen.

They were on a boat. A Damn Boat!

Who brings explosives aboard a ship? It's literally a floating deathtrap. All it takes is a breach in the hull and people die drowning in their own home. Because every operational transport SHIELD had eventually became a home to someone.

Take the Helicarrier for example. The flying fortress is filled with people stationed there. She was one of them at point in her career.

Anyway, everything went smoothly, up until this point. The bastard who blew them up, was enhanced. She was sure of it. Not just anybody can go toe to toe with Steve and make him work for it..

Natasha was just glad that the mission was over, both of them. Her shoulder hurt and a nice warm bath sounded nice. She going to relax when she got back to the tower, and if some alcohol disappears from Tony's stash, nobody will know.

But first, they needed to get off this damn boat. Those agents they just saved, better be grateful they got rescued.

The ride back was uneventful. Steve had that disapproving twist to his lips that he gets when he disagrees with someone. He too much of a good guy to speak up though. He would rather hold it in until he finds something wrong, then go all "Murica," and "Remember to eat your vegetables".

Okay, so that last one she saw on an old tv program and couldn't resist. People think that she is an emotionless robot most of the time, simply a terminator. But, they would be wrong of course.

She had a lot she wanted to say most of the time. It was just that her training in both Red Room and Shield have conditioned her to hold back the nonsense. Creating a filter, unlike a certain billionaire who has no filter at all.

Natasha wonders if her son got her quirks in his personality. There was no way he got it from a father though. Of that she was sure.

Red Room had been working on a way to create artificial life. They couldn't create an womb filled with eggs, but they could create artificial sperm. They filled it up with the serum, in hopes of creating the perfect soldier.

She was the first one it was tested on. Instead of being sterilized, she was implanted with an artificial sperm. From that, Petrov was born.

They had tried testing on him after his birth. Natasha had protected the newborn as much as she could. Often having to be sedated when they came to take him. Over the pregnancy, she had gotten attached. And that was a liability. She fought and fought, before they tried to label her defective.

That was when she had torn everything down. She couldn't lose Petrov, he was a light in an otherwise dreary world. It had hurt her deeply when she gave him away.

Eventually the quinjet landed and the strike team exited. Most going to stow their gear and head to debriefing. Their reports stating success.

She had her own report to give. And so she went directly to the Director. He had sanctioned her side op. All she had to do was hand over the datachip and she would be free.

A warm bath sound so good right then. The leather catsuit was sticking to her skin and she hated the clinginess of it. She had smooth skin, and it irritated easily. Plus her hair was tangled.

Being a warrior goddess took upkeep, ya know? Not everyone can get all sweaty and stinky and still look fantastic. She had it down to an artform by now.

Natasha stopped in front of Fury's office, her hand knocking lightly on the door. Only entering when given permission to enter.

Fury had a lot of secrets, his secrets have secrets. Sometimes, the spy in her wants to pry into every single one of them. To see who the man behind the eyepatch really is. She wants to learn about everything she can. To get all the information possible, just as a backup plan.

Old habits die hard, and all that jazz.

She handed him the datachip and stood silent. She may have wanted to know all his secrets, but she respected him. And that was more than she could say about most people. But, she didn't trust him completely.

Don't get her wrong respect and trust can be interpreted as each other when it comes to her. It was just that she was good at covering up things she didn't want others to know.

Fury knew this. He didn't trust her either. Hell, he probably had ten different failsafes incase she went rogue.

Every good spy had a failsafe or two. Their line of work was filled in coverups and lies. Sometimes the lies get out of hand and they needed an escape.

As she waited for the man to speak, she couldn't help but picture him as a pirate. A beard covering his face and several missing teeth showing. A ship captain's hat atop his head. What she wouldn't do to see his hobble around with a peg leg yelling, 'argh matey, time to get meh some booteh.'

It would be the funniest thing she would ever see, her imagination not doing it enough justice. Good thing her face didn't give anything away.

When he looked up, a frown adorned his features. Making the man, seem scarier than normal.

"I want you to stick around, I'm going to need your skills soon." he told her.

That damn pirate. She just lost her relaxation. Her shoulder was still numb and she felt like crap. And now her commanding officer just took away her bath. The world better be in danger, otherwise she was going to shoot him.

"Aye, sir." _stick that eyepatch up your ass!_

* * *

Okay, so the world wasn't ending, but it was still in danger. The day felt like it couldn't get any worse.

Fury had been killed. Steve was hiding things from her. The USB she had gotten for Fury, had been stashed in a vending machine of all things.

What happened next was a ride filled with memories and discoveries. Following Steve while he was on the run, seemed like a good idea at the time. She didn't think she would end up in an old army base. Or that a scientist had uploaded his brain onto the computer system. Revealing a whole new load of secrets.

Then a damn missile blows the area up, with them still inside. She was being blown up a lot lately. When did this become a thing?

Natasha has a suspicion that it is all Steve's fault. He seemed too used to being blown up for her liking.

Turns out that Hydra had been behind most of the major Shield leader's deaths. And wasn't that just the icing on the cake.

Finding out the helicarriers and the Insight Project were going to eliminate threats to their world was daunting. But, they dealt in the rush. She was an operative and did this sort of thing all the time. Sam Wilson was a new edition. He was part of an advanced personal flight suit program.

Eventually they headed towards the Triskelion in order to stop it, but were cut off by the Winter Soldier.

And she was shot by the bastard, again! She really owes that guy a few bullets in payback. Admittedly, Natasha didn't know what was going to happen next. Finding out another World War 2 soldier was superhuman and had been great friends with Steve, set her back a bit.

Now, she could only watch weakly as the Strike team showed up and took them into custody. She wasn't looking forward to what was about to come. They had been running from Shield, as their loyalties were questioned.

While sitting in the back of the prisoner van, Natasha couldn't help but think back on the conversation she had with Steve at Sam's home.

S _he wiped the grime from her hair. Everything had collected and she was a mess. They had arrived at the home of Sam Wilson, dirty and tired. With no place to go, he was their best option._ _The past 48 hours had been a whirlwind of chaos. She didn't know how Steve was feeling, finding out he'd died for nothing._

 _Steve walked out of the bathroom, towel still in hand. He was assessing her. Making sure she was alright. She didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed. She was a big girl after all._

 _"You okay?" he asked. Worry lines crossing his features. Was she okay? She didn't know, but this was Steve and he wouldn't give up until he was satisfied._

 _"Yeah," she chirped. A sound filled with exhaustion and something else she wasn't sure of._

 _She had come so close to death this time. The woman owed Steve her life. He had saved her and she was thankful. But, the thought of dieing before she got to see her son again was hurting her._

 _Steve obviously saw something in her otherwise impenetrable mask that worried him more. He sat in front of her, their knees touching._

 _She didn't know when the feelings had built up between them. He had gotten past many of her walls in the time they'd been working together. Natasha usually blocked all the stuff involving her heart out. She didn't know if she could love again._

 _Losing her son had made her cold to most._

 _"What's going on?" he asked. His blue eyes staring into her soul. Obviously he was going to push this. She started at him for a couple moments, weighing the choice before her._

 _"When I first joined Shield, I thought I was going straight," she started. "But, I guess I just traded the KGB in for Hydra. I thought I knew whose lies I was telling, but I guess I can't tell the difference anymore."_

 _That wasn't entirely what she wanted to say. All her thoughts were on her son. They clouded every thought, every second filled with a spectre. An unseen presence that haunts her every move. She could hear him in many things. The memories coming up and occupying her mind._

 _"There's a chance you might be in the wrong business." he stated, oblivious to her turmoil. She could feel her hand shake. It was just a small twitch, and she hid it well._

 _It was then that she decided to open up to the soldier._

 _"I owe you," she quietly said. An almost inaudible tremor in her voice. Her green eyes trying to make sure he knew she meant it._

 _He looked away, trying to play it off. "It's okay."_

 _"If it was the other way around," she started. "Would you trust me the same as I do you? Be honest."_

 _He gazed at her. His blue eyes filled with an emotion she couldn't recognize. Her mind was too clouded to fully read him. The man grabbed her hand in his, a thumb running over her smooth skin._

 _"I would." he said softly. His heart opening up to her bit by bit. The warmth of his touch sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. He looked so honest and caring in that moment, that she decided to give him a secret of hers._

 _A secret that she never told anybody. She hopes that he will stick with her after this. They made a good team. And she wants to move forward in life. The past always caused her pain, but now she was going to look towards a future._

 _One that Steve Rogers is hopefully a part of._

 _"There is something else," she heard herself say. Almost in a third person perspective. "I"ve been searching for someone."_

 _He looked at her questioningly. An eyebrow in askance. Green eyes meeting blue._

 _"A part of my past that has been left open," green eyes close. "Red Room had conducted an experiment on me. The person I'm looking for is tied to that."_

 _Blue eyes looked concerned. Green eyes looked away._

 _"His name is Petrovich Natanov," she sighed sadly. "And he should be thirteen years of age."_

 _Blue eyes widened._

 _"Is he?" The question hung in the air._

 _"Yes," green eyes teared up. "He is my son."_

Looking back on the conversation now, she realized that she kinda dropped a bomb on him. The tears on her cheeks didn't help the situation. She had been emotional, such a big part of her life revealed to another.

Natasha had thought he would pull away. That he would look at her differently. For the most part, she was right. He did pull away, only to shock her by pulling her into an embrace. He did look at her differently, only with more care and affection, if one could call it that.

They stayed like that for a while. His hands making soothing circular motions on her back. A warmth to hold her steady, while she emptied the pain.

It was the first time she had cried in front of another person since she'd last seen her son. She felt better after. Steve's support helping her more that he would ever know.

Now, they had the possibility of a future. That's if they don't end up in prison.

Steve would be the only other person with the knowledge she gave him. Not even Clint knew, and he was a big part of her life. His kids called her Aunty Nat, for crying out loud.

She watched as Steve beat himself up over what happened. The fact that his best friend had done that was a blow to his self-confidence. Natasha knew that he would continue if someone didn't snap him out of it.

"None of that is your fault, Steve." she told. Feeling drowsy with the untreated gunshot wound.

He looked away from her. A melancholy vibe emanating from him. His eyes staring unseeingly as memories assaulted him. "Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky."

She closed her eyes as a bump in the road, jostled her wound. It was above her heart. Only a few inches in a different direction and she would be dead. It happened to her again. Almost dieing before she had closure. If it became a problem any more, she just might have to rethink her occupation.

Natasha distantly heard Sam tell their guards she needed a doctor. The thumping of her chest, blocking out most of the sound. She was starting to have a panic attack. And that was something she couldn't afford.

The sound of a taser going off, stalled the attack momentarily. One of the guards was holding it towards Sam. She hoped things didn't get messy.

Then, the guard stunned the other one, before kicking him in the face. When Agent Hill showed herself to them, she felt joy.

"Ah, that thing was squeezing my brain." Natasha snorted. Comedic relief, gotta love it. Hill looked at them, her gaze stopping on Sam. "Who's this guy?"

Using a device called the Mouse Hole, made by a brilliant young agent from the Sci-tech division **[1]** , they escaped the van. Maria brought them to a safe house.

Which happened to be a dam, of all things.

Being brought inside, she was slightly delirious. Only Steve's calming hand keeping her level headed. She lost a lot of blood.

"She will want to see him first."

Natasha wondered who Hill could be talking about. Her vision was starting to blur. It wouldn't due for her to collapse and make Steve carry her.

She could walk, totally.

They stopped in front of a plastic entryway. The sound of medical equipment reaching her ears.

"About damn time."

Nick Fury was alive. His bald head shining slightly in the low light. He looked like shit laying on that medical bed. He was holding his chest, where she presumes still hurts after being shot.

As she was being patched up, she listened to Fury tell them all his injuries. It was admittedly an impressive list. If he was still able to power through it. He was a tough bastard, that was sure.

She reminded him that his heart had stopped, but that was just the effects of a drug he had taken. Slowing his heart to one beat a minute, giving the appearance of death.

"Why all the secrecy? Why not just tell us?" was what Steve asked. Looking as lost as she was. She idly wondered what he was thinking. After everything that had happened, it had to be rough on him.

"Can't kill you, if you're already dead."

Well wasn't that a terrific statement. Only Fury would go to such lengths. All in the name of Shield, and world safety. She wonders if he just wanted to quit his job and couldn't find an easier way to do it.

Before she knew it, they were on their way towards the Triskelion, Their mission was to insert the chips and bring everything down. Shield, Hydra, anybody else who got in their way. Times were changing and she couldn't help but feel things were going too fast.

One thing she knew for sure though, was that, wherever Steve went. She planned on following. Her future was with him.

She wasn't going to give up on happiness.

* * *

Fury sat aboard a quinjet that was supposed to take him to Europe. His thoughts on what had happened. The fall of Shield would be hard on him.

He always thought he was doing something good. That the work was for a good cause. But, it turned out that Hydra had been pulling his strings all along.

He was just a tool they used to get the hard stuff done.

A beep from his phone made him grab for it. When he saw the blinking red lights flashing across the screen he panicked.

"Shit," he climbed in the front and changed the direction he was going in. His destination, Queens, New York.

It only took him a few minutes to get there, he had already been close as it was. He made haste to his destination. Arriving at a abandoned building near Flushing Meadow, he came upon a shield emblem hidden on the wall.

His fingerprints overriding the access codes. He ran into the building, his wounded arm aching with every step.

He came upon the sight of a teen surrounded by what looked to be Shield operatives. Silently, he snuck behind them.

"You are coming with us, Mr. Parker." one of the armed men said. Slowly advancing on the teen.

The teen was taking cover behind a desk. The operatives shooting sleep darts at him. Fury had to admit the boy was agile, almost as graceful as his mother. He rolled his good eye before pulling out his weapon. He then systematically shot down every agent in the room. His bullet brass clanging loudly against the floor. His eyes cold behind the sunglasses.

When the last man fell, he stepped into the room, checking for anymore threats. The teen peeked his head up over the desk. Taking note of the dead agents around him, before looking at Fury, a solidary eyebrow raised.

Fury snorted softly, he looked so much like his mother right then. They both did that damn eyebrow thing.

"You can come out now Peter." he said. Hoping his voice sounded coaxing. Which it probably wasn't, considering he just shot down 5 people while their backs were turned.

The teen gulped, but slowly raised from his position. No doubt wondering if he could take him. "Ahh, you seem to know me. Mind returning the favor?"

"Kid," he started. "My name is Nick Fury. Former Director of Shield."

"O-oh r-really then?"

"Yeah," Fury looked at the petite hero. "We have a lot to talk about, Spider-man."

* * *

 **[1]** That Agent is Leo Fitz, from Agents of Shield. If you haven't watched the show, I recommend it. It is a favorite of mine.

 _ **Sorry about the different chapter sizes. Sometimes I just write as much as I can before a new chapter needs to take place. This was an example of that. I have a whole other chapter mapped out for Peter's stuff. It will show his perspective of the Shield collapse and what happens with Fury after.**_

 _ **I'd like to think that Fury has developed a soft spot for the young hero. As such, you will see a different side of him. One that is often not explored. I mean, how cool does Uncle Nick sound? ^_^ It would be awesome, that's how.**_


	4. Spider-man Returns

**A new chapter, yay!**

 **Sorry about my random update schedule. I know that the time between updates is awkward, but it all depends on how much of it I have done. I normally won't update unless I have the chapter after it finished. Just so I have a bit a leeway and so people get a chance to comment for me.**

 **This chapter we are back with Peter, it ties in to the last chapter as well.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I will never own anything. And Marvel is the best company ever.**

 **Now that I'm done phoning that in, let's start the chapter.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 4: Spider-man Returns**_

* * *

The air swirled around him. His lithe body soaring through the sky with precision.

He'd been falling for a good few seconds already, but time seemed to go on forever in that moment. He knew that he was gaining speed.

That he would eventually come into contact with the concrete streets below him. Yet, it felt as if he could stay like this forever.

The wind blowing cool air into his stuffy suit. His sweaty body taking a relish to the frigid breeze.

His mind had been elsewhere for most of the week. Everything he had known was changing and he had a feeling more was still to come.

Peter couldn't be anymore grateful for the times like this. Where he could shut off his brain and restart his heart. The numbness had been slowly creeping in since he learned more of his past. An unstoppable force, intent on clouding his judgement.

It had worked for the most part. And he was admittedly thankful towards it, but sometimes he needed the adrenaline. He needed to feel the blood rush through his veins. Feel his heart thunder in his chest.

To hear the thumping in his ears. Moments like this where something he always enjoyed.

Peter had been pushing the limits of it though. Taking longer to dodge than normal. Making choices that put him in more risk than normal. Forcing him to remember that he was human. Enhanced human, but human nonetheless.

He waited until the last moment to shoot his web, catching the building across from him and swinging through the traffic. Bystanders shouting out at him from their vehicles.

Spider-man had caught more attention lately. The fall of Shield had the public watching it's heroes. Watching to see if they do the same, and turn against them. He could understand that. He'd felt as if it would happen to him many times already.

But, he didn't have as much time to worry about that. The fall of Shield was the opportunity criminals needed to take advantage of. Crime has skyrocketed in the days following. All of them intent on using the confusion to get a leg up onto the police.

Peter had stopped more firefights between the police and gangsters, in the last three days, than an entire three months from before.

The teen put aside his grudge towards the cops and helped them. It was his duty to do so. Spider-man protected the city. Cops included.

If Peter Parker had trouble sleeping afterwards, nobody would know or care. That was the way it was. Peter Parker was just another meaningless face. He didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

But, Spider-man did. And that was all he needed. He started to dedicate more time to being Spider-man then Peter Parker.

Peter may have been a genius, and he uses the term lightly, but that was what only mattered to most. His teachers at school didn't care about how he felt. They only cared about the genius they could exploit to their benefit.

He had realized this soon after starting the fast track program. They didn't care about him. But, he didn't care about them either. So for now, they would use each other to get what they wanted. If that meant he got out of the place faster, he would use them until they were dry.

…..that sounded weird. Maybe he should have used a different analogy?

' _Probably should have. You sounded kind of perverted right then.'_

"...shut up," he muttered. His shoulders slumping as much as they could while still swinging.

' _What was that?!'_

He rolled his eyes, "Shut up, please?"

' _Better, but no, I will not.'_

'And why is that?' he replied mentally. Not believing he was arguing with himself. This was just the thing he needed right now. Note the sarcasm.

' _Because, Peter, you need to talk to somebody. And I am currently the best and only option.'_

'Isn't that just fantastic,' he replied sullenly. His only conversations are being held with a voice inside his head. This was a new low for him.

' _It's great!'_ Came an overly chipper reply. ' _Is it not?'_

'...not even close.' was his monotoned answer.

He didn't get a reply, because his enhanced hearing picked up sirens in the distance. The sound of a fire truck could be heard under the loud wailing. A fire, better check it out.

When he arrived, it was to the sight of a four story building, lit up like a bonfire. He was on the building opposite as he searched for a way in, dimly aware of a woman crying about her child on the third floor.

Finding a structurally safe place to enter on the second floor, he swung into the building. The glass window not making any resistance as he crashed through it.

He searched for any signs of life, but it seemed nobody was left on the floor.

Making his way up the stairwell, he felt the wooden stairs creak ominously, He only had a spare second to jump to the next floor. The stairs crashing down into a fiery demise.

He wouldn't be going back that way then.

The third floor was covered in flames. Everywhere he looked, the flickering orange met his gaze. Smoke was starting to enter his lungs, so he crouched down. Trying to stall the inhalation that was attacking him.

Flames licked at his spandex suit, the heat being felt as he walked.

The sound of a whimper, made him turn his head to the side. A collapsed wall opening up to what used to be an apartment. He jumped through the flames in order to find the source of distress. His shoulder scraping a fallen support beam, leaving a burn. He hissed between his teeth, but continued on.

Peter found the source. A young girl, about the age of seven. Her blonde hair covered in soot, and her bright blue eyes filled with tears. For a second, the image of another blonde flashed before his eyes. This little girl being confused for someone else.

He shook the apparition of Gwen away and made his way to the child. It wouldn't due to think about her at this point. They had a lot of unspoken problems that had to be worked out. He couldn't bring himself to look at her after everything. Gwen was the reminder of a better life that he would never get back.

"Hey, it's okay." he coaxed. Trying to get her out of the corner. "I'm here to help."

She looked scared of him, the mask not helping her in her terrified state. The little girl backed further into the corner, which made him mentally curse. He didn't have long before this floor collapsed as well.

Cursing himself for even thinking about what he was going to do, he slowly pulled of his mask, giving the girl a look at his face.

"My name is Peter," he started. The girl coming closer. "Can you tell me your's?"

She inched closer to him, his kind face giving her the trust she needed. "Emma."

"Emma, that is a beautiful name. Why don't you come out of there so we can get you to your mother?" he held out a gloved hand. Which she took a hold of. He smiled and picked her up, making his way to a window.

Before he could though, the floor started to crack and fall apart. Holding tightly onto Emma, he jumped up and stuck to the ceiling. The tips of his fingers and feet burning from the heat. His suit melting as he painfully made his way across the room.

He stopped by a window before putting his mask back on. The smoke was starting to get to him and the mask offered a small reprieve. Pulling the girl before him, he tied a web around her body.

"I'm gonna lower you down now," he held her shoulders. "Only a little bit to go alright?"

He didn't start until he saw he teary nod. Soon, she was being lowered to the ground below. A fireman there to grab her when she reached them.

Peter could hear the sound of the crowd cheering in the background. A small smile crept onto his face.

When Emma was fully lowered, he gave a thumbs up out the window, before climbing to the fourth floor. Nobody was on the floor, so he got out of there.

He swung until the burn in his lungs got too much and he collapsed on a rooftop.

He stumbled and fell to his knees. Ripping off the mask, he coughed and tried to get as much air as he could. His lungs burned intensely, and he knew that they were going to hurt for awhile. A cough would be almost entirely certain.

How was he going to hide this one. The house mother was intimidating when she wanted to be.

It took him a while before he could breathe without it hurting as much as it did. When finally shook off the pain and stood up, he realized that it had started to get dark. The lights of New York lit up the skyline. The city that never sleeps was such a true statement. Although he'd lived here his entire life, sometimes the nightlife caught him off guard.

There was still a lot of the city that he hadn't seen yet. It was only after becoming Spider-man, that he'd started finding most of it.

Shaking his head, he checked his phone for the time. It was only 8:27 p.m, He still had a lot of time left. The house mother wouldn't care, because he said he was sleeping at a friends house. It was friday after all.

She probably should not have believed his lie though, Peter didn't really have any friends to speak of. And he didn't know where he stood with Gwen. So, he would be spending his time in his lair. The Spider's Nest.

Does that sound good? He couldn't figure out a good name for it without sounding pretentious. All of the names sounded weird.

The Spider's Lair, Web Cave, Spider Sanctuary. He couldn't decide on a single name. Maybe he was overthinking it.

Peter ran towards the edge of the building, before leaping off and shooting his webs. He would continue patrolling for most of the night, into the morning. Before crashing at his mother's desk in the lair.

* * *

It was past noon the next day, when he was rudely awoken to the sounds of a warning beep from the computer. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at the screen. It's light temporarily blinding him from the sudden increase in brightness.

When he could finally see again, the blinking red words ' **Warning: Security Breach** ' highlighted in bold, reached his vision.

"...shit." he leapt from his seated position and ran out the door.

Right into the multiple intruder's sights.

"Oh, hey fellas." he nervously spoke. Trying to keep calm at the sight of their weapons pointed at him. Those were big guns.

"Put your hands where we can see them." one of the men commanded. Peter got a better look at them then. They looked like they were agents. Of Shield. Fantastic!

There was five of them in total. He could probably take them all if he could split them up and make their guns useless. At least, he hopes he can. They were twice his size.

"Are those for me?" he pointed to their guns. One of them was gullible enough to look down, he was the first to be hit with a web. Peter sprang into action, trying to get good enough cover that would give him time to plan. He dodged a what seemed to be a tranquilizing dart and it made him move faster.

They were trying to capture him then. He could use that to his advantage. But it also meant that they weren't here to kill him, but take him in. Which was worse than being killed.

As he was about to leap over the desk, his spider-sense going off made him stay put. He wondered why it went off, but before he could put much thought into it a gunshot rang out. It was followed by a thump, and then happen four more times in quick succession.

When he was sure whoever had shot the men was not going to shoot at him, he peeked over the desk. A man came out of the shadows. His attire dark and blended in with everything. Sunglass covered his eyes and a beanie on his head. His left arm was in a sling and the other was lowering his weapon.

 _You don't see that everyday._

Peter snorted softly, then froze. The elastic fabric of his suit making itself known at the worst time. His face was free for all to see. He'd forgotten the mask!

He looked back towards the man and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. It was just an odd sight and he hoped the man didn't notice his suit. When he heard the man snort softly, all his hopes were dashed by the crude sound.

Peter didn't say anything until he heard the man speak. "You can come out now Peter."

Ahh, that was fantastic. The man knew his name. He was beginning to feel like he wasn't as great of an actor as he thought he was. Gulping slightly, he slowly rose to a standing position. Knees slightly bent in case he had to defend himself.

"Ahh, you seem to know me," he swallowed thickly. "Mind returning the favor?"

He asked in hopes that something would work out in his favor. He was feeling trapped in this room. This room that had felt like a safe haven, seemed to lose all its former warmth.

The man put his weapon away and surveyed the room around him. "Kid, my name is Nick Fury, former Director of Shield."

Okay, so that was enlightening. Peter couldn't help but wonder why the man was here. Last he had heard, Nick Fury was dead. "O-oh r-really then?"

The man snorted softly before staring into his soul. "Yeah, we have a lot to talk about Spider-man."

Maybe, he should've seen that coming. He was wearing the suit in front of the man. His mask thrown haphazardly on his mother's desk. Well, adopted mother's. Peter was still getting used to that fact.

That fact also brought up another thing to his mind. The name was ringing a bell.

"Nick Fury huh?" he started, a questioning tilt to his head. "I'd say it's a pleasure to see you again, but I can't seem to remember you."

Fury nodded his head slightly, glad the boy was figuring out stuff on his own. "Yes, we have met before. Back then, you were just a small boy."

Peter hummed under his breath and looked around him. "I'd offer you a drink, but as you can see, things are a bit messy."

And they were indeed. The room looked like a storm had came through. Papers and other things littering the floor. A table was overturned and of course, there was also five dead men dirtying his floor.

Fury must have seen his gazed wander to the dead men, because he spoke up. "I'll take care of them when I leave, but first, we need to discuss some things. No?"

"Aye, sir!" chirped Peter. The former director couldn't stop himself from muttering about cheek brats.

Peter was feeling overwhelmed. His eyes darting back to the bloody men on the floor. He'd seen death before, when his uncle died in front of him, he'd been covered in the man's blood. But now, he only felt a numbness clench his heart. Was he a bad person for not caring that they died? Should he care more about the blatant death that sat before him?

How was he supposed to feel? He couldn't stop the thoughts from running their course.

Shaking his head, he put it to the back of his mind. It wouldn't due to have a breakdown right now. A man that was a part of his past was standing before him. And he needed answers.

Leading Fury into his mother's office, he sat down behind the desk. It was a funny sight to those who knew the former director. The ludicrous thought of him not behind a desk and instead being the one in front of one, would have them laughing their asses off.

They sat in silence for a few moments, both gathering their thoughts. It was Nick who started.

"Seven years ago, an operation on an experimental facility was given the green light. Shield had been giving information pertaining to inhumane experiments being taken place." he said. His eyes cold behind his sunglasses. "An agent, had gone off his entry plan after finding a hidden door. What he found behind that door, was a secret experiment being taken place."

Peter looked confused before understanding hit him, "M-me?"

Fury nodded, "From what the agent could gather, you had been taken from an orphanage after a worker told her boss about a child who could lift more than his body weight. The group that took you, had been stationed in Paris. The same city you had been in, and took you before they made a escape."

Peter took a calming breath. He didn't remember ever being out of the state, let alone a different country. He motioned for Fury to continue.

"They had done tests on you and found out about your dormant DNA. After which, is when they began trying to wake it." said the former director. His thoughts all pointing towards how much the young before him has been failed in life.

"Coincedently, you were brought to the base Agent Parker was stationed at. From there, you had been sent to her for evaluation and a health check. You two hit it off immediately." he said. Making sure the boy knew all Fury could tell.

"Is that how she became my adopted mother?" asked Peter.

Fury felt his lip twitch. The boy was smart and inquisitive. He would have made a fine agent when he grew up. Fury nodded his head, "She was the best choice I could come up with. You two had a connection."

It was true, Agent Parker had been the best person to look after the boy. She could tell what was wrong with only a glance at him. They got along great when he had seen them.

Peter nodded slowly, that aligned with what his mother had said in her video. He keeps forgetting to add the 'adopted' part before it. The teen doesn't think that will happen anytime soon though.

Peter swallowed slightly, "There was a list on the flash drive. A list of who my biological mother could be. Have you figured it out yet?"

Fury closed his eyes. Now that was the question he didn't want asked. The boy's mother was an important person, one who had been on the news a lot lately. What was he supposed to say? The world was still in danger and Natasha needed to be focused on keeping it safe. A distraction like this could be fatal. He could only imagine what would happen to her if her son was killed after she just found him. The possibility of her going rogue and doing something bad would be an almost inescapable fact.

He took off his sunglasses and rubbed his left eye. The artificial eye itched sometimes, and it was doing so now. Looking at the expectant face of the boy, he made a decision.

He lied, "Sorry, I had been looking for years but I am still no closer than before."

When the boy's face predictably fell, he felt something he hadn't felt since the start of his training. He felt regret about lying to him. The words leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Fury could tell the boy fell for his lie. It was written in his eyes.

The boy had a perfect poker face, but it was his eyes that gave him away. They showed that he still trusted the world, even if he tried to deny it.

It was then that Fury realized, the boy wouldn't always have that trust. That one day, he would lose all faith in the world and start to do something about it. With his origins, Fury didn't doubt that those changes would be of a lethal variety.

"...ah." muttered Peter. His disappointment feeling like a crushing weight in his chest. It held him down and made everything cloudy. Like he was drowning in despair.

 _That should be a song title. Drowning in Despair. A good rock band could pull it off, don't ya think?_

Peter ignored the voice. Now wasn't a time for his crazy to be acting up. He watched the man before put his sunglasses back on, covering the scarred visage they were hiding. They sat in silence for awhile.

He was grateful the man let him process everything. It was a saddening feeling, not getting the answers he wanted. It made the pain in his heart all too noticeable.

The teen had been blocking it out since his Aunt's death. It was unhealthy to hold it all in, but he couldn't let it out yet. Not when it felt like there was more pain to come.

That and he didn't have anybody he could trust with his pain. He'd cut off most of his ties since then. He barely saw Gwen anymore and if he did, what was he supposed to do? There had been a rift between them that didn't seem to want to close. Admittedly, that might be mostly his fault.

He could only hope that she wouldn't completely leave him as well. Peter didn't know how to deal with all his conflicting emotions. He was genius in everything besides emotion and human interaction. Awards and breakthroughs won't mean anything if he can't share them with somebody.

Fury checked his watch before standing up, he was supposed to be in Europe soon and he needed to leave.

"I need to go, but before that there is something I want to give you." he walked over to a bookcase, pushing the books aside and pressing a hand on the wall. He lifted his sunglasses as a scanner popped up. After it scanned his fake eye, a compartment slid out of the wall.

 _Now that is a secret compartment._

Peter shook his head as he watched the man pull out a data chip. Fury walked over to him and handed it to him. He took it with a questioning eyebrow.

"That," he pointed to the chip. "Is an Artificial Intelligence that Mary Parker was working on before her death."

Peter looked closely at the data chip, "this is?"

Fury nodded, "Yeah, she called it Monetary Assessment Reaction Intelligence Executive, or Marie for short. She didn't get a chance to finish it and I think she would have liked you to finish it for her."

The teen couldn't find the words so he just nodded. This was big. Nobody had working A.I's other than Tony Stark, and he made his when he was a little older than Peter.

Fury nodded again, before heading towards the door. He stopped at the entrance and looked at the still amazed teen. A soft smile on his lips.

"If you ever need me, press the eagle on Mary's badge and I will get you the help you need."

With his piece finally said, Nick walked out the door and looked at the bodies around him in distaste. "I used to have people for this."

Peter watched the door close. Feeling lighter than he did before. He got most of the answers he was looking for. Some were still out of his reach, but the ones he had were better than nothing. Which was something he didn't see happening anytime soon.

He looked at the chip in his hand before his vision focused on something else. His mask laid harmlessly on the desk. It's round eyes gazing innocently back at him.

Peter's eyes widened. His leapt from his chair and bolted towards the door. He opened it, already speaking. "Hey, the Spider-man thing will stay between us….right?"

The room was empty. All signs of bodies or Nick Fury nowhere to be seen. The papers stacked neatly at their designated places. All blood cleaned up and the entire room looked spotless.

 _How did he do that? Can we learn that?_

Peter could only nod his head in shock. How did he do that?

"...hello?"

* * *

 **And there is the end. 4k words this time.**


	5. Masks

_**Slightly larger chapter this time. I have been trying to think about a good reunion scene but am currently hitting a wall. I know that this sort of thing should have been planned out before hand. But, I forgot? ...he..heh... *Sheepishly shrugs shoulders***_

 _ **Anyways, I was planning on that chapter taking place sometime during Age of Ultron. I'm planning on making Ultron seem a little more evil(er?). Peter will play a role in Natasha's nightmares as well.**_

 _ **It's gonna be greattttt!**_

 _ **...sorry, that frickin cereal commercial was just on and now it's stuck in my head.**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own anything. This includes: Marvel, AC/DC, Rolling Stones and Ghostbusters. If I did, a crossover comedy that would star Captain America and Tony Stark would take place. And Tony would have his own side story, The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. Where he is haunted by all the women and that one man he forgot, and they would just give him snappy comments about how stupid he looks in those sunglasses from Civil War.**_

 _ **I always thought he looked ridiculous in them. Now I get to impart my feelings on to the lovely readers.**_

 _ **Now you get to think about it every time you watch the movie.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 5: Masks**_

* * *

Peter smiled as wide as he was able. His face feeling numb and all his thoughts doubting the moment. To the rest of the world, Peter Parker was as happy as can be.

But, deep inside, he was sad. He was sad that, in this moment right now, standing before the school's officials, he was utterly alone.

Peter had just graduated. He was only fourteen and he'd finished the work fast. Using his advanced intellect, he soared through the courses in record time.

Before, he'd been buying his time. Doing only as much as was needed. Everything had been alright for him then. He had family to go home to and a friend to call his own.

But now, he was alone. His friendship with Gwen had fallen too far to fix. Their issues dealing with trust and support, stopped them from enjoying the others company most times.

He had thrown himself into the work and being Spider-man. Anything to keep his mind off the rising pain in his chest. Grief was a consuming emotion that didn't want to let him go.

It felt like he had been mourning for too long, yet he couldn't stop himself. He wasn't getting the support he needed, so all he could do was ignore it. That worked for him, and changing that seemed like a bad idea.

Right now, he was standing before the school officials and receiving his diploma. They had wanted him to graduate with the years other graduates, but he didn't want to wait that long. He would be starting the college work soon and didn't need to waste anymore of his time.

It was his hope, that once the he started the college work, he could get emancipated from the state. And then he could inherit everything his family left him.

All he currently had of his family were his Aunt and Uncle's wedding rings, which still sat on his necklace, right next to the spider pendant. The golden rings often brought him comfort. He didn't know if the rings would be used for anything other that their current use, but he wasn't going to get rid of them.

That was another thing that always made him think. Would he ever have a family of his own? For some reason, he felt as if his love life would be complicated. With all the loss in his life, he didn't think he could deal with the pain of losing a lover. Whether by death or breakup.

Peter was someone who wouldn't easily fall in love. But, if somebody did gain his love, he would always love them.. That was something that he had grown up believing. He doubted it would change.

But, because that was how he was, he protected his heart with walls as strong as he could. His heart was large, he felt everything in bigger proportions. He loved harder, he laughed longer, but he cried more and wilted faster. That was the curse of his emotions.

A mask was needed to block out most of the pain. He wore it most of the time. And if he wasn't wearing that mask, he wore another. One with bigger responsibilities and less time for failure.

He was always wearing a mask nowadays.

Peter shook his head and plastered the fake smile upon his lips. HIs green eyes clouded behind his bangs. It was starting to feel repetitive now. The bright flashes coming from various cameras, doing damage on his enhanced eyesight.

All these people had showed up to this private ceremony type thing. He didn't even know what to call it. He'd thought they'd just give him the diploma and let him go, but that was not the case. Multiple newspaper reporters and website bloggers were all trying to gain his attention. Something about being a genius again. That he could shape the world.

Peter thought it was all a load bull. The school had blown this up into something that it wasn't. All they were doing was trying to gain a profit. He felt used at the moment. The administration had used his intellect to their benefit.

The teen didn't feel like a genius most of the time. He just felt as if he was a failure. That no matter what he does, it would never be good enough. Like he could never live up to his adoptive parent's names.

He couldn't even finish his mother's A.I system and he'd been working on it for weeks. His life had reached a plateau. A point where he completely slowed to a near stop.

Peter couldn't see a future. No matter what he did, it all seemed pointless to some degree. He didn't know who his mother was. He had nothing to go home to. And, he didn't know what he would do after the college courses. Was he supposed to get a job in his desired field?

Those were things that had been heavily on his mind as of late.

Before long, the stupid circus he was just forced to attend was over and he was making his way to the Spider's Nest.

Peter rolled his eyes, he still didn't know what to call the damn place. Every name he came up with sounded dumb to his ears. So for now, it would stay the Spider's Nest, until he could come up with something better. Or at least not so dumb.

 _You going out as Spider-man tonight, honey?_

'Most likely,' he mentally replied. The voice inside his head, had become more pronounced. Often speaking up during his days.

He should probably be worried that he heard voices, and that he spoke back to them. But, the teen stopped caring about his health a long time ago. He was just slowly letting himself waste away in hopes of some peace.

 _Make sure you be careful out there, sugar._

"...Don't call me sugar," he deadpanned. "May would never say that as a sentence. It's creepy."

Peter felt himself shiver in disgust. Hearing his aunt say those words to him, freaked him out. It sounded so wrong and he didn't like it.

 _Whatever you say, baby._

'Gah," he covered his ears futilely. 'Stop that.'

As quick as he could, he shoved his headphones into his ears, blasting the music as high as he could. He used the music block out the world. Ignoring the pain it caused his hearing, every time.

It wasn't until the lyrics of ' _On My Own' by Ashes Remain,_ blasted into his ears that he finally let himself relax a little. Music was something he took seriously. If he wasn't listening to music, his mind ran rampant.

It had gotten worse after the fallout of everything. Talking and thinking about his family hurt him more than he ever thought it would. Being able to shut off his mind with music was a godsend. He didn't know what he would do without it.

Shaking his head as he entered the his lair, Peter started the building up. His main thoughts about working on the A.I system. He really wanted to finish it, but was having problems. The interface wasn't connecting to the rest of the database and he needed a way for it to do so. After that, it should be smooth sailing. If he could connect the interface, the whole system would be linked and he could relax.

He began working as he switched his music over to the sound system. Peter had installed speakers all around the building so he could listen to music whenever he wanted too. Having spider powers allowed him to reach the hard places.

It was great, and loud. But, mostly great.

A few hours later, he was still labouring over his project when he made a breakthrough.

Peter stared at the screen in anticipation. Currently the system was connecting and that was further than he has made before. The blinking words had his entire attention.

 _Connecting…._

 _Connecting…._

 _Connected._

He shouted in joy as the confirmation beep sounded. The teen was excited. "Marie? Are you online."

" **Sir?"** the slightly accented english rang through the speakers. That meant she was hooked into the entire system, even his surround sound.

 _Sweet._

"Welcome to your online date Marie." Peter said. His joy audible at his success. His first real smile in weeks adorning his features.

" **Thank you, sir."** came her response.

He checked to make sure all her protocols were online and everything was running smoothly. When he was sure everything was in order, he did a little jig. His body moving wildly in strange motions. It looked sort of like a Kabuki dance.

" **You look ridiculous, sir."** Peter froze. Oh no. Slowly, he turned around and stared at the screen. A pout forming on his lips.

He did not just get sass from an A.I. "E-excuse me?" he squeaked. Actually, no he didn't squeak. It was a manly grunt. Got that?!

" **Nothing, sir."**

Peter got an annoyed look. "Stop with the sir, I'm too young to be a sir."

" **Whatever you say…."** He nodded his head in acceptance. " **...Sir."**

He threw his hands up. A frustrated growl leaving his lips. He ruefully shook his head. Now wasn't the time to be arguing with his A.I.

His A.I. Peter liked the sound of that. It showed his accomplishment in something worthwhile. Something meaningful. Now he was one step closer to finding his real mother. He could use Marie to find her.

The teen paused. _Used_ was a disgusting word. Leaving a bad taste on his tongue. He didn't want to use anybody or anything.

Shaking his head, he rubbed his eyes. Working with and collaborating sounded way better. He nodded his head. Peter was sticking with those from now on.

"Marie, if I can get you access, can you run a search on a person for me?" he asked hopefully. Marie's attributes were not fully discovered by him yet. And he was sure there was still more for him to learn.

" **I would need access to an International database."** Peter nodded before sitting down before the console. His fingers flying across the keyboard at a fast pace.

He was hacking into some governments. Being extremely smart did have its benefits. It didn't take him long to gain access. He had covered his tracks well. If somebody searched for him, they would be rerouted to too many different towers to properly locate. And when and if they got past those, it lead them to an island in the middle of the pacific.

On someplace uncharted to normal maps. Peter smirked, the thought of causing them anger made him excited. Maybe he would leave some extra memes and viruses to add to the carnage. It would certainly get a laugh out of him.

"There you go, now here are the details I need a search on." he gave her the green eyes and red hair as a template to go off of. Peter was trusting his dreams to lead him to the prize. Adding into the fact the woman had to be enhanced by some serum. He liked his chances.

He was going behind Fury's back to do this. Peter was grateful that the man had given him some answers, but was sad that they were all the wrong ones. He knew that there had to be more to it than not being able to find anything. The man had protected the world for crying out loud. Surely he would have some information on his mother.

It should of been a guarantee for such a thing to happen, somewhere down the line.

Peter could only wonder on that problem. If the man did know something, why did he lie to him. Fury knew that Peter was looking, yet he was keeping things from the teen. Peter wanted to trust him, to be able to understand the man. But, it seemed that the spy didn't want that.

It made Peter curious as to why. A dangerous thing to be sure. But, curious nonetheless. Nick Fury played a part in Peter's past. And whether or not the man wanted it. Peter was going to get him apart of his life. The teen wanted to know more, and right now, Fury was the only one who could answer him.

Secrets were going to be his downfall. He knew it.

Speaking of secrets, the green eyed teen sat at the desk and began typing in a new protocol. It wouldn't due for his Spider-man gig to be revealed. So he was setting the A.I up so he could eventually install her into his suit or something of the sort.

Marie could keep his secret safer that way. Then he wouldn't have to worry as much. Well, he didn't know why he worried at all anymore. It's not like he had anyone that could be hurt because of his hobby.

Is it a hobby? Sometimes it feels more like a job than anything else. He would have to look up the technical description for being a vigilante.

Peter rolled his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. He forgot how annoying being smart could be.

 _A lot of good those smarts do you when you're crazy, eh?_

'UGH!'

* * *

A few days later, we find our favorite hero sitting on the edge of a skyscraper. His red clad feet, dangling over the emptiness below him. His hands tapping to an unheard melody.

The white eyes focused on the skyline before him as he watched the sun set. It was an oddly beautiful thing, even though he has seen it million times before. He supposed that it was because his mood had risen in the last few days.

Completing Marie had been a boost to his self-esteem and it was working wonders. He felt himself being happier than he had been in weeks. Things were looking up for Peter and that made his moods rise.

He was minding his own business when Marie's voice rang through his mask. Peter had wired his mask with a hud system and a whole bunch of other cool stuff.

" **There seems to be a bank robbery taking place downtown, police scanners report that the robbers have hostages."**

Peter smirked, "I guess we should crash the party, eh?"

He stood up and leaned over the edge, feeling the wind against his suit. Peter grinned, before flipping off the side and free falling.

Was it a bad thing he was becoming addicted to the rush? Probably.

Did he care? Not at all.

He laughed happily, shooting his webs at the last second. Swinging to the bank was done in record time. He snuck in through the roof and crawled on the ceiling inside the bank.

There were four guys with guns that he could see. The hostages clustered together in the far corner, all on their hands and knees. One of the gunmen kept peeking out the windows, while trying to make himself as small as he could.

"Marie, get yourself into the security system." he whispered. Not moving until he got confirmation that she was done. He waited a few seconds before his attention was grabbed by a fifth guy entering from the back. This seemed to be the leader of the group, because the rest deferred to him. It was in their postures, they subconsciously gave him the attention he needed.

Though, one of the gunmen holding people at gunpoint seemed to be a hot head. His rebellious attitude giving Peter the opening he was sure he would need.

"Round them up and put them in the front," the leader said, pointing towards the hostages. The others complied and before long all the hostages were in front of the windows. All except for one. An old man sat defiantly before them. His mustache white with age and his sunglasses covering his eyes. **[1]**

The hot head was trying to get him to move but he wouldn't budge."Move it old timer,"

"You are fifty years too early to point that weapon at me, sonny." the old man's boston accent strong and clear. What was this old man doing so far away from boston? Peter shook his head and silently urged the man to listen to the gunman.

The hot head didn't like this and shoved his gun into the man's stomach. A snarl leaving his lips. "Get marching you bastard."

The old man just laughed mockingly, a grin on his lips. "Is that all you got?! The children in Vietnam hit harder than you."

"That's it." Hot head pointed his barrel at the man's head and time slowed down for Peter. The finger slowly pulling the trigger.

Spider-man leapt into action, knocking the gun away with his webs and landing softly on the floor. The rest of the crew aimed their weapons at him and Peter was glad to see the Old Man shuffle over to the rest of the hostages, an acknowledging nod sent towards the hero.

"Spider-man?! Boss, this wasn't part of the job!" said thug number one.

"W-what do we do boss?" was the nervous question from the shaking thug number three.

The beep inside his mask made him smirk. "Marie, play track thirteen."

Immediately, the sound of classic rock music rang throughout the building. **[2]**

 _I see the girls walk by,_

 _Dressed in their summer clothes._

Peter kicked out, catching the leader in the chin and spun around, webbing all the weapons as he went. He jumped towards the crew with fury. He punched one before ducking under a wild swing. His foot catching a stray thug before him.

He flipped over the last guy and used him as a shield against the recovered hot headed thug. The man took the punch directly to the face, teeth going flying.

 _I have to turn my head,_

 _Until my darkness goes._

Spider-man did a handstand and spun on his hands. His feet catching the crew that was surrounding him. Both feet being used to damage them.

 _I see a line of cars,_

 _And they're all painted black._

 _With flowers and my love,_

 _Both never to come back._

Peter was distantly aware of the old man nodding his head to the beat. For some reason it brought another smile to his face. Right before he dodged an overhead swing.

 _I see people turn their head and quickly look away._

 _Like a newborn baby, it just happens every day._

A laugh escaped his lips as he hit the last thug. Knocking him unconscious. The hostages cheering for him. Peter waved before he webbed the robbers together and was about to make his way out.

That was when the music shut off, unexplainably. The sound of thrusters met his ears and he looked towards the doors. Iron Man was hovering outside the building and Peter gulped slightly.

It didn't take him long to get out of there, but he had picked up a follower. Iron Man was behind him and Peter knew the man wanted him to land somewhere. Peter was looking forward to meeting him though, it wasn't everyday you got to meet one of your heroes.

He landed on top of a nearby building, close to the edge incase the meeting went wrong. A few seconds later, the metal man landing with a thunk. His voice with a robotic edge, sounding from the machine.

"That was quite the show, Spider-man." he praised. "Not as well as myself, but still a magnificent piece if I know anything."

Peter rubbed the back of his masked head. A nervous habit he picked up somewhere in the past. "T-thanks, M-mister Stark." He hoped that he didn't squeak. The teen probably wouldn't live it down if he had.

Tony let out a huff mixed with a scoff. Waving his hand around, "Please, It's just Tony. Mr. Stark was my father."

Peter tilted his head to the side, something about that statement connected with him. He would figure it out later though.

"Ahh, Okay. Just Tony it is." he said. "It's just Spider-man or Spider or Spidey, I haven't had a nickname before, that's odd….." the spandex clad teen trailed off. Embarrassed that he just rambled so heavily in front of _The_ Tony Stark.

Tony smiled under his helmet. He already liked this kid on his music taste alone, he felt like he was going to like him more after this. For some reason, it was like he knew the kid could be a great friend one day.

"So why did you choose that song?" asked the billionaire. The type of music was right up Tony's alley. He had a love for all things classical rock.

Peter smiled sheepishly under his mask, shrugging his shoulders in reply. "Cause I like the Rolling Stones?"

Did he really need another reason?

Tony laughed, this kid was great. The teen's awkwardness brought Tony joy. He had a feeling that he was about to have loads of fun. For that he was glad. Having so many Avengers in the tower was suffocating. They could usually get along great, but sometimes Tony needed time to himself.

Tony gasped fakely, "Someone who understands, Jarvis do you hear this buddy?"

The spider jumped when another voice rang out on the roof top, though it still came from the metal contraption.

" _Indeed, sir."_

Peter almost wet himself. He had completely forgotten about the A.I Tony Stark had built. How could that happen? His brain was still catching up apparently.

"Oh. My. Gawd. Is that your A.I?" he wasn't fanboying. Where did you even get that idea?

Tony seemed to preen slightly, Peter couldn't really tell, what with the giant metal casing the man was wearing.

"It sure is, Jarvis say hello to Spider-man,"

" _Hello to Spider-man..."_ Was the dead-panned delivery. Peter wondered how an A.I could sound so human. But, he had the same problem unfortunately.

Tony raised a hand to his helmet and rubbed it. "Thanks for embarrassing me, buddy."

" _No problem, sir."_

Peter could only shake his head in sympathy, "Your's does that too?"

Tony nodded his head and shook his arms in a 'what are you gonna do' way. Then what the smaller man said caught up to him.

"Wait a tic," he raised a single finger, before pointing it at the bug themed hero. "'Your's does that too?'" he quoted back to him. "You mean you have an A.I?"

Peter couldn't see it, but he felt the raised eyebrow of doubt. Which made him indignant. "Marie, why don't you introduce yourself."

" **Yes, sir. My name is Marie. Which stands for Monetary. Assessment. Reaction. Intelligence. Elective. Created by my sworn master, Spider-man."**

Peter pouted, before groaning. "I thought we talked about the 'sir thing' already, Marie!"

While Peter was busy arguing with Marie, Tony was looking at him in astonishment. He made Jarvis run a scan and indeed, a system was running the heroes mask. Though, if it was just the suit or a whole system, Jarvis couldn't tell at the time. There wasn't enough output for him to trace.

Tony shook his head before his metal mask lifted, revealing his face. Which, also, caught the teen's attention.

Peter looked at the famous goatee on the man before him. Wondering idly if he could get such an awesome mustache and beard one day.

"Did you make her yourself?" asked the metal man. His face questioning.

Peter stepped back a bit. Something in Tony's eyes was off. All he could do was nod slightly, he didn't need to know that Peter's adoptive mother had started the project and he just finished it. Tony seemed to take this well.

Too well, some would say.

"How sentient is your's?" he inquired. Peter tilted his head to the side. Questioning the other man's sanity.

"Umm," he cleared his throat. "V-very, i'd say. What do you think Marie?"

" **I'm very sentient, sir. That was a silly question."**

Peter just shrugged his shoulders. It couldn't hurt to ask. Tony looked like a, well, himself in a lab filled with toys.

So, an overgrown child.….Basically…

He snorted softly, that was putting it mildly.

"Okay, quick question. Slightly crazy question." started the man. He hands waving wildly think he didn't know what to do with them. Peter leaned back slightly when Tony leaned forward. Face to Mask. "Do you think two sentient A.I. systems could reproduce?"

Peter choked on his tongue, his body shook with silent laughter. He didn't know if it was the insane question or just the thought itself that made him laugh. But man, Tony Stark was a riot.

"Are you serious?" he managed to wheeze out. It felt good to laugh, he hasn't in awhile.

Tony just smiled secretly, "I don't know. Am I?"

The teen just silently shook his head. It wouldn't do to look into another person's crazy. He had his own to deal with.

 _And don't you forget it!_

The sound of sirens shook him out of his thoughts. He looked towards their origins before looking back at Tony. A contemplative tilt to his head. Tony for his part, only stood silently. Wondering if their time was up.

That was, until the teen spoke, "Say, do you feel like fighting some crime?"

Tony raised an eyebrow, thinking about all the fun he could have. Peter took his silence differently.

"I-i m-mean having a partner would help a lot, and you know, I-i think it could be fun to have someone to bounce my thoughts off of….and stuff.." he finished lamely. He honestly didn't know why he was getting so nervous.

Maybe it had to do something with asking his idol to team-up with him?

Tony just grinned. Not the roguish grin Peter had seen on TV, but a real genuine grin.

It was then that Peter realized that he wasn't the only one wearing more than one mask. Tony Stark wore one too. The metal one and the one reserved for people who unsettle him. Media and people he didn't know got the charming Tony Stark. The playboy who didn't have a care in the world. But, those close to him got to see the loyal, protective Tony.

Peter felt honored that the man would such a mask with him. So, he would drop his own public mask. The fake happy one everyone expected. He would be himself. Sarcastic, and awkward it may be. But that was him.

"Why, I'd love to, Spidey!" said Tony, he eyes lighting up at the prospect of all the fun they could have.

The teen felt himself smile back. Maybe he wouldn't find what he was searching for. Maybe he wouldn't ever find true happiness.

But, he could fill the void in the meantime. Maybe Tony Stark could meet Peter Parker one day?

They walked over to the edge of the rooftop. Tony's helmet flipping down and the eyes lighting up. His robotic voice sounding through the speakers.

"Do you have a song preference?"

Peter smirked, he was going to enjoy this. The teen nodded, his gaze looking into the blue eyes of Iron Man's visor.

* * *

 _Thunder!_

The rest of the Avengers were gathered around TV on the main floor. The tower had been quiet without the usual rambunctious Tony to liven up the place. Some had seen the man leave earlier in his Iron Man suit, but the alarm wasn't sounded, so they didn't think much on it.

 _Thunder!_

Now though, they realized what a horrible mistake that had been. Natasha looked over at Pepper Potts, to see that the woman had her face in her hands, slowly shaking her head.

 _Thunder!_

Natasha felt pity for the woman. This was something that would get on her nerves as well.

 _Thunder!_

The rest of the team could only shake their heads as they watched footage of Tony's recent adventure. She was sure that he couldn't get into anything this bad since they were all in one place. That somebody would stop him from doing something like this.

 _I was caught,_

She was wrong.

 _In the middle of a railroad track. (Thunder!)_

On the screen before them was Iron Man. He was flying around a giant purple tentacle monster. He was dodging its swipes and shooting repulsor blasts at the blob.

 _I looked round_

 _And I knew there was no turning back. (Thunder!)_

 _My mind raced,_

 _and I thought, what could I do?_

He was fighting alongside the hero Spider-man. The spider themed hero leaping and rolling away from the constant assault of tentacles. He punched and chopped, all trying to stall the monster in some way.

 _And I knew,_

 _There was no help, no help from you. (Thunder!)_

The thing that had made them all so exasperated was the fact that both heroes were wearing a little extra on top of their suits. Iron Man, wore a sombrero, it's beads hanging down in front of his visor. The black sharpie mustache could be seen drawn onto the helmet. He had gotten rid of the poncho earlier.

 _Sound of the drums,_

 _Beating in my heart._

Spider-man was barely any better. He was covered in pink and yellow paint. The splotches standing out on his usually red and blue suit. He wore a red clown nose and a frilly open-chested shirt over the top of his suit.

Natasha felt a small laugh build in her throat. It was hilarious. Nobody would blame her if she let loose and laughed. She could see Steve having a hard time keeping his disappointed face. The others weren't much better. Clint looked like he could barely breath.

 _The thunder of guns, tore me apart,_

 _You've been._

She watched as they worked together and an explosion rocked the screen. Both of the heroes stumbling backwards. It was silent until a shadow rose from within the dust cloud.

 _Thunderstruck!_

Out of the cloud came the monster. Its face looking comical. The tentacles waving wildly as it charged heroes. To which, they just looked at each other and sighed.

 _Rode down the highway!_

 _Broke the limit, we hit the town._

 _Went through to Texas, yeah Texas, and we had some fun._

Somewhere during the fight, Spider-man acquired a large hammer. Its size dwarfing the hero. He was comically chasing the monster as Tony tried to herald it into a better place for explosions.

 _We met some girls,_

 _Some dancers who gave a good time._

 _Broke all the rules,_

 _Played all the fools_

Then the monster broke off into three different parts and began chasing the two heroes back. Its tentacles waving wildly in the air. From what the reporter was saying, the two heroes were laughing like crazy.

 _Yeah yeah, they, they, they blew our minds._

 _And i was shaking at the knees._

Natasha then watched as the two pulled out ghostbusters' uniforms and equipment. Both taking aim at the creature with their proton packs **[3]** , who had stopped and looked scared of them. It was slowly sludging backwards, it tentacles trying to placate the heroes.

 _Could I come again please,_

 _Yeah them ladies were too kind._

 _You've been._

Tony then gave a nod towards Spider-man and their makeshift Proton Packs lit up and an energy blast rocked throughout the surrounding area. The dust clearing to show only a liquid splatter on the concrete.

 _THUNDERSTRUCK!_

* * *

 **[1]** Stan Lee anybody?

 **[2]** Paint it, Black by Rolling Stones. Listen to it.

 **[3]** Ghostbuster weapon of choice.

 **[4]** For those who don't know the song, you have been living under a rock. Thunderstruck by AC/DC.

 ** _Gotta love the pointless humor at the end there. 5k words and I had decided at somewhere around the 3k mark, that I should add some funny shit to lighten the mood for our main character. Everybody needs some time to laugh once and a while. This was it._**


	6. Age of Ultron pt 1

**Chapter Six everybody!.**

 **I must apologize for taking so long to update and for the shortness of the chapter. I had lost motivation to write during the week and unfortunately, I did not get much done.**

 **The next chapter will be longer and hopefully better. It will most likely be with Peter, but wait and see!**

 **Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I do not own it. Which is basically all of it...sadly.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 6: Age of Ultron Part One**_

* * *

Natasha stared at the screen before her in worry. Ultron had just made his debut and the tower had become a battleground. Using Tony's own robots against them.

She was immensely glad that she had decided to wear flats tonight instead of heels. Although, having to fight inside their home had made her unsteady. The tower was supposed to be a place for them to relax, and not deal with firefights.

Shaking her head, she got back to the problem before her. Ultron had accessed all their files. Everything that was on the system dealing with them, now in his possession. For the first time since giving up her son, she felt scared.

Everything she had on Petrov, was now in the hands of a psycho murder-bot. Every lead she had ever followed, anything pertaining to the boy, even whispers of his name, all in the his robotic clutches.

She didn't know how to handle this, such a big part of her life was now more vulnerable than it was before. Ultron had access to all the databases. He could search for her child and find him if needed.

What if he was used against her? That was a question she didn't want answered.

"He's been in everything, files, surveillance." she spoke, making sure to hide her worry. "He probably knows more about us, than we know about each other."

She looked at Steve, trying to make sure he fully understood her statement. The hidden meaning behind her words.

 _He knows about my son!_

He nodded slightly and she felt a little better. Knowing he would have her back if it came down to it. She then looked at Clint, he must be struggling right now. His family wasn't on any system, but he was probably still filled with worry.

She listened as Rhodey told them his worry about nuclear codes. That was something that had been unthought of before. She was still running the scenarios in her head, dealing with her son. How could she think about nukes when that was clouding her thoughts.

"Nukes? He said he wanted us dead." That was the only thing she could come up with.

"He didn't say dead," Steve interrupted. "He said he wanted us extinct."

And wasn't that just a great thought. Natasha gave him a side eye that made him know exactly how much she appreciated the sentence. That was something she didn't need right now. In fact, it only increased her worry.

While she was making her displeasure known to Steve, the others were talking about who Ultron could have killed. That was when Tony showed them what happened to Jarvis.

The orange projection of his being was ripped to shreds. A work of rage if she had ever seen one. Now she knew that this was much worse than she thought.

They were dealing with an emotional robot that was hell-bent on 'protecting' the world.

She watched the rest of the meeting in cold detachment. So much was going wrong and she couldn't do anything about it yet. Her fingers itched for the opportunity to shoot something. It would release so much of her emotions and she didn't want to hold back.

Watching Tony have a crazy episode reminded her that everything was not okay.

It was a sad fact that all they could do now was wait and see. Hoping to get a location they could use to find Ultron. And hopefully stop him before he causes too much damage.

She left the main room and took the elevator to the roof. She needed to get away from everybody. It wouldn't do for them all to know about her problems. Natasha was dimly aware of Steve following after her when he finished ordering everybody around.

When she arrived at her destination, she looked out over the city in silence. This was one of the few places she could come without having to worry about people intruding. When Steve stood next to her, she didn't say anything. Waiting for the man to speak first..

Steve looked at her and silently took her hand in his. He secretly marveled at the fact that her hands always seemed so soft. It was like the smoothest thing he had ever touched. How did she do that?

He shook his head, the man would never understand women and Natasha was in a whole different class on her own. He didn't want to get lost in her thoughts.

"I'm here if you need me," he started. His voice softer than normal. His blue eyes staring into the side of her head trying to get a reaction. Anything to know what she was feeling. "We can get through this."

Natasha felt her lips twitch despite her worry. She liked the sound of that. She turned her eyes to his. Before she sighed softly.

"I had thought that I could get ahead of my past," she muttered. Her fingers tracing his in a soothing motion. "That I could start looking towards the future. But I guess that something is still holding me back."

She was glad that he was someone she could talk to about this. That he would stick by her. Even when it seemed like she didn't want his help.

Steve snorted softly, before shaking his head slightly and wrapping his arm around her waist. Pulling her close, he looked into her beautiful green eyes.

"Then, I will be there with you," He smiled and was glad that she smiled back. "Every step of the way."

They started to lean in, the moment giving them encouragement. Green eyes close in anticipation. She had waited for the day he would finally make this move. The day they would take their relationship further.

As the sun rose and set them into a golden glow, their lips were centimeters apart. It felt like time was slowing down, making the moment more meaningful.

They were about to finally kiss when,

 _BEEP BEEP!_

His phone beeped and they froze. Lips still so close together. The warmth of their breaths, slowly blowing against each other's lips.

Natasha kept her eyes close in hope that the moment doesn't stall out. She heard him speak, his heat still radiating against her pale skin in the morning light.

"I should probably get that?" he muttered. More of a question than anything. She raised an eyebrow in reply. Cracking one eye open, she stared into his blue ones.

"Really?" she asked mockingly. "Because I think you should take responsibility for what was about to happen. And continue."

Steve raised his own eyebrow. "Is that a challenge, Romanoff?"

She smirked, "Only if you're man enough."

He smirked back before he leaned all the way in. Capturing her lips with a heated passion. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he was also waiting for this.

They stayed like that for awhile, lips locked together in a loving embrace. Nothing about to outside world mattering to them in their private moment.

A throat being cleared, made them separate to look at the origin of the sound. In the elevator door way stood Maria Hill. Her eyebrows raised and a smirk adorning her lips.

"If you two are done sucking face," Steve blushed lightly. Such crudeness. "We got some leads if you're not too busy?"

The dead-panned delivery not helping his blush, Steve cleared his throat before looking at Natasha. Blue eyes searching for something. When she nodded, he looked back towards Hill, a sheepish shrug in answer.

"S-sure, w-we're good to go." he stuttered out. His blush growing with every word. Natasha idly wondered how he could turn so red. It was kind of cute.

She paused. _Cute_ was a word she barely ever used. But, looking back at the blushing soldier, she nodded in her assessment. Cute was the right word she was looking for.

* * *

 _She tripped and stumbled, landing heavily on her knees. Looking around her, she realized that she was in some sort of dance studio._

 _When the ballet dancers reached her eyes, she knew where she was. And the place brought back more pain than she cared for._

 _Natasha could only watched helplessly as her memories played out before her. They were the things of nightmares. Constantly lying heavily on her mind for the past decade._

 _The Red Room program was a part of her life that she wanted to forget. But, it seemed that the Maximoff girl had gotten to her._

 _She felt like she was watching everything in third person. Warning the handler that the girls would break, but not her._

 _Never her, she was too strong for that._

 _That was why they chose her for experimentation. They needed a strong woman to carry the fetus if they could make everything work._

 _Watching herself be implanted by an artificial sperm, was different. It seemed as if they were sterilizing her instead of what they actually did to her._

 _Her pregnancy trials flashed before her eyes in rapid pace._

 _The small bump protruding from her stomach. The god awful morning sickness. She could still feel the phantom cravings from time to time._

 _Her stomach got bigger and bigger. And so did her love for the baby inside her. A softness that had been trained out of her, making its reappearance, along with the mood swings._

 _Let it be said, that normal pregnancy mood swings were terrible for even the most mortal human. Now, enhanced mood swings, those were a whole new cup of tea. Imagine having the urge to kill somebody, and then it happening accidently. Multiple times._

 _Not great at all._

 _She shook her head and the labour and eventual birthing process showed._

 _Natasha remembered that day very clearly. Her son had been the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in those first moments together._

 _Then she had to watch as they tried to take him away. Day after day they tried to take her precious child. All so they could hurt him. She couldn't handle that. So she fought._

 _Never letting him be taken from her, protecting him as fiercely as a mother dragon protects her eggs. She killed more of Red Room's thugs in those days, than she had before._

 _Eventually, she caught word of them planning to kill her, or at least wipe her mind and she panicked._

 _What happened next was a slaughter, Natasha killed everyone she could. Releasing the girls who wanted to leave and killing the rest. She had no mercy as she brutally and efficiently killed the entire Red Room project. Nobody was allowed to live._

 _Then after everything, her son still wasn't safe and she had to go on the run. Making sure he lived long enough to have a better life._

 _She cried and wept the days leading up to her abandonment. All she could give him was a necklace. One that he would probably lose, eventually._

 _The image of her son on a doorstep, twisted and blurred. Its shape changing into a new picture. Instead of the tiny child from before. A young teen stood in his place._

 _The boy looked a lot like her, his mouth and nose the same as hers. His cheekbones the same aristocratic height she held._

 _His reddish-brown hair standing up in wavy curls._

" _...Petrov." she muttered. Her eyes filled with tears._

 _Green eyes watched green eyes._

 _His eyes held a resentment towards her, his lip curled in disgust._

 _Then the image change once again, and her son was covered in blood. Blood leaking out of his lips, eyes dull. He pointed shakily at her, his hand covered in his own blood._

 _:...Y-you did t-this." he croaked, before time slowed and he slowly fell backwards. The rest of the light leaving his eyes._

 _She struggled to get to him. Her legs felt weighed down by an unseen force. Natasha could only cry helplessly as he got further and further from her. His words ringing through her ears on a constant loop._

 _All of her fears played out inside her own head. She was coming apart at the seams._

 _When the world around her came to an abrupt stop, she weakly got to her feet. Her legs wobbly as she forced herself to move. Natasha stared at the body of her 'son' heartbroken._

 _She forgot that she was trapped in her mind for a single moment. When she slowly stumbled towards the downed boy before her. Her knees caving as soon as she reached his side. The tears blurring most of her vision._

 _Hesitantly, she reached a hand out to him. Her fingers shaking from the effort. When her hand softly landed on the fabric of his shirt, her sense of time seemed to freeze for what felt like forever._

 _Gently, she rolled him over so she could see his face. HIs green eyes standing out more than the rest of his features. They were dull and cold. An empty void that had never been filled. HIs light extinguished long ago._

 _Her fingers moved up his arm, ghosting over his neck and chin. The tips of her fingers coming to a stop on his cheeks. Her other hand already moving towards his hair so she could run her fingers through it._

 _Staring at the boy she held, Natasha felt her heart break. It happened in a single moment. She never thought that it was something that actually happened to people. But now, in this moment, she could feel it. Like a part of her was shattering before being replaced by a coldness that agitated the wound. Slowly numbing every other feeling._

 _She moved her fingers down to his neck, checking for a pulse. Anything that would tell her he was still alive._

 _When she couldn't find anything, her tears fell anew. The liquid sliding down her cheeks and splashing against his. She closed her eyes as tightly as she could. Trying as hard as she could to stave off the attack she felt coming. Her breathing quickened and her heart raced._

 _Before long she was hyperventilating. The world just an annoying buzz around her. Not a sound being distinguishable._

" _...why?" she asked. Her face buried into his chest. Why was this happening to her? Why was she the one being forced into this pain?_

" _...why?" she cried, questioning without receiving an answer. Her shoulders shaking in sorrowful plea's._

" _Because," a voice above her had her head snapping up. Looking into the green eyes of her son. She watched as they went from such a beautiful color, to pure black with red irises. "_ _ **...this is your fault!"**_

 _Natasha could only watch helplessly as her 'son' grabbed her by the throat and stood, lifting her with him. His demonized eyes glaring into her soul. The fearless Natasha Romanoff was long gone. She had left long ago. Only the shell of a broken mother remained._

 _Her green eyes losing the little bit of light they previously held. She could only smile sadly as she waited for death. For her 'son' to repay her for all the pain she had caused him._

" _ **Goodbye…..Natasha!"**_

" _ **...Natasha!"**_ _She looked up, her eyes searching for the echo. It didn't sound like the demon she was just at the mercy of._

" _ **Nata**_ _sha!" The demonic image started to fade away. HIs figure breaking away into wasps of unknown origin._

"NATASHA!"

Her son gave her one last smirk before the world went black. The worried words of her team muffled by the oncoming dizziness.

She groaned miserably as the sound of jet thrusters reached her ears. Natasha couldn't making anything in front of her out. Her eyes still trying to readjust to the abrupt sunlight. She could also hear the others tripping around behind her.

When she could finally see, the quinjet was sitting innocently in her vision. Oblivious to the headache it was causing her. She felt a hand holding her steady by her right arm. Looking over, Clint's bow was the first thing she saw, which was odd in itself. Getting a better look, she realized he had just placed it oddly on his shoulder.

She rolled her eyes slightly and focused on not stumbling the rest of the way to the quinjet. Once they reached it and she sat down, she took a minute to catch her breath.

The image of her son strangling her kept flashing before her eyes. And the blood, it was everywhere. Looking at her hands, she started to hallucinate that they were dripping in blood. The red sticking out on the grey background the floor posed.

Shaking her head, she focused on her surroundings. Steve sat near her, his eyes holding a far off look to them. The rest weren't much better. She moved her knee so it touched Steve's own, offering the silent support and comfort they both needed. Just to make them feel grounded when their minds were taking over from inside.

Hours past and before she knew it, they were arriving at a safe house. She idly noticed that it was Clint's home. That meant that she was about to see her 'niece and nephew' and needed to put on a slightly put together face. It would be bad for them to see their 'Aunty' so broken apart.

Putting on her mask, she caught Steve's eye. They would be having a talk about it later and for that she was grateful. Grateful that she had someone to turn to.

She would help with his problems and he would with her's. It was a good system they had going. It wouldn't fail them anytime soon.

* * *

 **Only 3k words...sorry..**


	7. Hacking Away

**Update everybody!**

 **Here is the next chapter. I had gotten the idea for Peter's role from the mysterious hacker in Age of Ultron. In the movie, it was Jarvis, but here it is Peter and the rest will be played out. The next few chapters will probably be on this arc. I haven't decided completely yet, or have I?**

 **Also, a bit of drama. And maybe a love interest for Peter. MWUAHAHAhHAHaHAHaha...sorry.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy and look forward to more of the story. Remember to favorite if you like the story, and follow to get emails of the updates!**

 **Mild warning! There are some dark themes starting to shine through. Our hero will unfortunately, suffer more during the story. If he didn't, then the plot would suck...**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 7: Hacking Away**_

* * *

Weakness is something that everybody has.

It comes in many different shapes and sizes, but stays exactly alike. No matter the person, the weakness is there. Everybody has one or two, even those of 'super' origin.

Weakness consumes most. They fall to its clutches, and lose their strength.

Age brings many different weaknesses. Many of those come from their bodies. A inevitability that all people come to. With age, comes wisdom and bodily failure. Legs ache and joints lock up. Backs break and hips displace. Advancing in age means that eventually, your body will fail you.

In other words, it is a weakness that you cannot stop or control.

There are many weaknesses that cannot be controlled, but also many that can. Those with the willpower to overcome those weaknesses, often find themselves becoming great people.

People who set examples and lead their generations on. Overcoming those weaknesses, open up more of the world to them. They stop being held back with those problems.

But, there are weaknesses that are mental in origin. The mind is something that scientists have tried for ages to figure out. To find out why we see the world the way we do. Questioning the problems that arise and their solutions.

Mental limitations are dealt with in many different ways. Some see a doctor and get medicine to help. So they can ignore the problem and move on. Others, often confront the problem. Burrowing deep into their minds to figure out why they feel the way they do. The problem with doing it alone however, is that those who do, rarely get out unscathed.

There is something that happens when digging into those problems, that stays with them. Confronting them often leaves scars upon their souls. A constant reminder that something was wrong.

Scars are something that most get in life. Whether they are mental or physical, is a whole different story.

Physical scars often heal and fade with time. As life goes on, that reminder slowly disappears until it cannot be seen.

Mental scars stay longer. They mark the soul in ways that cannot be changed. The scars stay, but they are covered with layers of future possibilities. Most people can get past these scars by ignoring the problem or getting help to dull the pain.

But, there comes the issue of what people do when they do not have help. Those people often suffer the most. And they are great at hiding those pains.

People who don't get the help they deserve, fall into a new category.

They are often seen as different than the rest of the population. Most times they are outcasts and ignored. A presence that is seen but not heard.

But, the honesty of it, is that they could be anybody. A friend who smiles more than anyone, could hurt the most. A parent could give all their love during the day, yet hate themselves at night. The child who cries themselves to sleep at night.

What is trying to be said, is that pain is a constant. It is overlooked so much that people need outlets for it. Outlets that make the emotional pain go away long enough for them to feel alive.

There is a numbness that takes over when the pain is left untreated. It dulls every other feeling. Happiness is only a shadow in the despair. Sadness is multiplied tenfold. So is anger and embarrassment.

These are our insecurities. They come in many forms. Anxiety, over sensitivity, emotional turmoil.

Insecurities are a weakness.

Peter realizes this as he traces the singular scar that bisects his left wrist. A line that starts near the base of his thumb and goes up his forearm, stopping inches short of his elbow. It is a nasty looking thing. Filled with all his pain and sorrow. Wrapped into a jagged mark that mutilates his skin.

Every pain that he had ever had, every tear he has cried, every smile he had faked, all set on display for the world to see.

As he thinks back on how he got it, he realizes that it was a new low for him. He was so desperate to feel something other than emotional pain, that he went to desperate measures to ensure the ease. The amount of blood that came out of his arm still flashes before his eyes. He can feel the blood on his hands, coating them in the red ink that gave him life.

He can still feel the sharp sting that burned his arm for hours after he made the cut.

It wasn't his best moment. But, probably won't be the last, and that scared him. To know that he would lose himself so deeply that he mutilated himself. To permanently mark his skin with a cruel reminder of his pain.

Admittedly, his advanced healing factor, staved off the worst of it. The cut had been deep and sloppy. It was only his healing that saved his life that night.

He was currently sitting at his adopted mother's desk in the Spider Web. His lair. Music played idly in the background. The soft tones of a violin, weeping through the building. Its sad cries echoing in his ears.

Peter was having one of his bad days. Days when everything crushed down on him and dulled the rest of the world. A sorrow that was felt in the air. His agony made physical for all to feel, and he was glad noone was around.

It was something he couldn't hide like normal. He couldn't hide behind a fake smile when it got like this. The pain landed too heavily on his shoulders for him to keep them set.

That was why he preferred to hide all together. If he couldn't make it seem like he was okay, then he wouldn't let anybody find out. He didn't let anybody see him in pain, it was a weakness that he despised.

He didn't want to be seen as weak by others. The teen had made it this far without breaking, and he didn't want to do so now. He keep his strong facade for his own good. To keep out others and keep in the pain. Locking his heart into a vibranium container. Never to be opened unless he allows it.

His heart was too pure, too large for anything else. It was something that he protected from the darkness. It was his only redeeming quality, so he would keep it safe.

For surely if he allowed his heart to feel, it would be broken. Damaged beyond all repair, and something he couldn't fix. He was alone, he couldn't afford to be so completely broken.

That was why he locked the rest of his heart away. He'd let himself be hurt before, and now he wasn't going to make that mistake again.

Because eventually, all people would hurt him. Inadvertently or not, it would happen, and he wouldn't be able to handle that.

The problem with that though, is that it makes him hurt worse than before. Every feeling is magnified and more destructive.

The ugly scar on his wrist was proof of that. A permanent reminder that he was in pain. Pain so immense that he tried to relieve it any way he could, even if it caused him a different pain all together.

Physical pain allowed him to breathe easier. Without the emotional strain to hold him down. That was why he had marked his skin. A misguided attempt at making himself better.

That is the category he currently sat in. One of the people who scarred in more ways than one, and cannot heal either one. It is something that most hope will reduce in time. That the saying 'time heals all wounds' will actually mean something more than some factious statement. That it is more than just an excuse that people who don't understand give.

People who have never had such a deep depression, often make it seem like it is something it's not. That it is not as hard as it is. And they would be wrong. Because, depression hurts worse than physical pain. It hurts the soul, beating the heart into submission, and making most lose themselves.

Depression breaks a person down, until barely anything is left, if left untreated. It cannot be healed by medication. Medication only temporarily overpowers it. Leaving a false state of happiness in it's wake. Covering the pain, but not removing it.

The pain stays, lingering in the depths of a person's being, waiting for its chance to reemerge. Then it comes back with extra fury. Tearing down everything in its path. Leaving nothing unburdened.

" **There seems to be an intrusion in my system, sir."**

Shaking off his thoughts, Peter sat up and started searching the system. He needed to focus on the now, and save all his problems for later.

"Can you tell me who it is Marie?" he asked. Still searching the system for whoever was trying to get in.

" **It appears to be another A.I. Jarvis, sir,"** Peter paused and waited for her to continue. He only knew of one other artificial intelligence and wondered what Stark was playing at. " **But, something is wrong with his programing."**

Peter tilted his head to the side, and raised an eyebrow. "Bring him up for me Marie."

A few seconds later, a second voice rang throughout the area. " _Hello? Might I ask where I am?"_

" **You are in my system, how did you get in?"**

There was pause and Peter wondered why Jarvis was hesitating. He remembers that he was an amazingly advanced system and rarely had any problems of the sort.

" _It appears that I have been damaged,"_ Jarvis answered, the confusion clear in his animated voice. " _My memory has been wiped, and I seem to only be part of a backup protocol."_

Peter scratched his head before searching the system. When he found Jarvis inside, it was heavily damaged. Only his base protocols remained of the A.I. After searching deeper, Peter realized that Tony had added a new protocol that if Jarvis was ever damaged to badly, he would dump his memory and hide somewhere safe enough to recover.

Apparently, Spider-man and his A.I, where Stark's first choice. Which is odd. Seeing as Peter didn't realize they had such a trusting relationship. Peter hadn't even taken off his mask yet for the billionaire. The amount of trust the man held for him was new to Peter.

It also made him feel warm deep down, silently happy that someone would do such a thing.

"Jarvis, I'm going to help you get back in shape, do you think you can find out how this happened to you?" he asked, hoping that he could get some answers.

" _I will endeavor to grant you enlightenment."_

Peter snorted, ",,,,smart ass."

" _It appears that a program made by Mr. Stark has gone rogue,"_ Jarvis said. " _Part of my system is still connected to the rogue element, Ultron. And he seems to be causing chaos around the world."_

Peter couldn't stop the groan from leaving his lips. Pulling up anything he could, he found many different events all happening at once. All of them said to be led by robots that looked like the Stark made brands.

It looked like he was going to have to help out. He owed Stark for trusting him with Jarvis, plus he was starting to really like the man. They understood each other better than others. Their friendship only hindered by his mask.

"Marie, keep an eye on Ultron and worn me if he does something that could be trouble." he ordered.

" **It would be my pleasure sir."**

Peter rolled his eyes in annoyance. He is sure that he's told her to stop calling him 'sir' many times already. Yet, she still does it. Most likely to get on his nerves. "...thanks."

A few minutes later and he was hacking into the government database. Trying to stop Ultron from getting his hands on nuclear codes. He idly wondered why he was the one doing it. He was sure that their were smarter people who could be doing this. Why did he have to be the one?

He spent hours stopping the rogue robot from destroying the world. Feeling like he should be getting paid for his services.

Jarvis had gone to the Nexus Internet Hub in Oslo, Norway. Knowing that he would have a better chance of rebuilding in a place where Stark could find him.

Peter was piggybacking off of him to make sure he stayed ahead of Ultron. He was faster than the villain, which was a feat in itself. And he was having trouble keeping ahead. Sure, he was intelligent and could outwit the robot. But, he was also human, and he would need to rest eventually.

It wasn't until a few hours after the Avengers had been in Africa and the Hulk and Iron Man battled it out, that he made a mistake. A mistake that would cost him as it were.

He'd taken his eyes off the screen for a few minutes when he was backtraced by the robot. Ultron couldn't get the codes, so he followed the line connecting them and eventually found Peter. That was when the teen was attacked.

He barely had anytime to move when the first robot came crashing through the ceiling. Peter had dodged to the floor to escape the stunning blasts when he rolled right into Ultron's main body.

Peter felt his breath catch. The robot was tall and intimidating. His red eyes burning into his own. Marking his soul with the curious anger that laid behind them, Metallic armor like body in humanoid shape. A fearsome opponent to be sure.

The teen acted fast, kicking off the giant robot and crashing into a smaller one, disabling it. He moved with speed and precision to take out many of the robots, often by tearing them apart. Then Ultron decided to fight him.

"To think that such a small person, was such a ferocious fighter." drawled the robot. His red eyes glinting in dark humor.

Peter ducked under a punch before landing an uppercut and knocking Ultron back. He capitalized on the daze and kicked out, bring the robot to its metal knees.

Ultron grabbed the teen's wrist, but Peter used his strength to pry off the hand and simultaneously rip off the metal arm. Which he then used to smash over Ultron's head, knocking him back a few feet.

"Wanda!" Ultron growled, and Peter only had a millisecond to wonder who he was talking to, when he felt a presence near him and then everything went black.

Wanda looked at the teen before her with cold detachment. She didn't know why Ultron wanted him, but she wasn't going to make a fuss about it. That and she was nervous, being so close to Avenger's Tower and all. They had plans that couldn't be so recklessly risked like this.

"This is what we came here for, a young boy?" she asked. Idly wondering why he looked so familiar.

Ultron growled, before standing and lumbering over to the girl. His red eyes angry as he looked at his missing arm. The boy was stronger than he gave him credit for. He underestimated the teen, which was a mistake he wouldn't make again.

"Wanda, meet the hacker that's been a pain in my chasis." he rolled the boy over, getting a better look at him. The witch could now see him fully and realized where she had seen him before. He looked so much like the Black Widow that she wondered how she didn't see it earlier.

"Widow's son?"

"I believe so," Ultron laughed cruelly. "To think that they had been searching for each other for so long, yet were so close it is painful."

She didn't say anything, choosing to stay quiet and study the teen. Wondering what he was like. Why, she didn't know. But, for some reason she was drawn to him. Her curiosity getting the best of her, she looked into his mind.

What she found, nearly had her in tears, only her while holding them back. The boy- Peter - has had a tough life. And was barely holding it together.

Admittedly, she only made it so far. Not able to dig deep enough to know it all. But, just enough to know he was filled with sorrow. All his surface thoughts were sad.

She could only shake her head and ignore it for now. Wanda was eager to get back to what they had been doing. Detours would only hold back her revenge.

* * *

When Peter finally woke, he couldn't see a thing. He was in a dark room and there was no light for him to see. The smell of moldy rock reached his nose, making him wrinkle it in distaste.

He leaned heavily on the wall he was against and sighed loudly.

So he'd been captured. That was just great. Peter Parker taken by an insane robot who wants to end the world as he knew it.

This had to be on the top of the list of stupid things that have happened to him. Right behind all the other bullshit he was dealing with.

The teen berated himself for not making sure that the robot didn't have back up. Back up that was enhanced enough to get past his spider sense and take him out. His reflexes alone should have prevented it from happening, so how did it?

That was the million dollar question. It wasn't another robot, because he was sure he ripped them all to shreds. And Ultron was in front of him on the floor, missing an arm.

He shook his head, now wasn't the time to question that. He had to get out of there and get to freedom.

The teen was about to stand when the door flew open and the light turned on. His eyesight temporarily blinded by the brightness. Rubbing his eyes, he waited for the spots to clear. When they did, Ultron stood before him. In his demented glory. The robot didn't say anything, choosing to gaze at the teen steadily.

"Is this the part where you monologue?" Peter asked. Unnerved by the silence. "Because if it is, I'd like to say that I will most likely ignore most of it."

Ultron snorted crudely, and Peter wondered how he made the sound. He was robotic in nature. They usually didn't have nasals and/or the needed parts for such a thing to happen.

"Amazing what science can do, is it not? Come, follow me and I will show you my evil plan so you may try to stop it."

There was an awkward silence as Peter stared at the megalomaniac robot made by Tony Stark…...

And stared at the _megalomaniac_ robot…..

And _stared_ at the robot…..

 _And_ stared…..

 _Stare-_

Then he laughed nervously. Idly scratching the back of his head. If this was an anime, he would have sweat dropped. Maybe even a comedic face fault as well.

But this wasn't an anime.

"Are you sure?"

"No."

*Insert another face fault here.*

Peter coughed into his hand. This was getting out of hand. "Please revert back to evil supervillain mode, it's easier to deal with."

Ultron nodded, before he took a menacing step forward. Grabbing Peter by the neck to slam backwards into the wall. His breath being knocked out of him by the force of it. Peter choked slightly, trying to get air back in his lungs.

"Yep, way easier to deal with." he breathlessly choked out.

Ultron settled before him, their faces inches apart. The robot looked over the teen, studying ever feature upon his face.

"You look so much like your mother," he murmured. The teen's eyes widened as he took in the sentence. This robot knew his mother!

"W-who is she?" he pleaded. Still clawing at the hand around his neck. When did the robot get so strong? He wasn't this strong before.

Ultron tilted his head to the side is confusion, well maybe, it was hard to tell with him being purely metal after all. Then the robot laughed darkly.

"Oh, this is great. You don't know do you?" he asked rhetorically. When Peter barely shook his head, the robot laughed harder. It wasn't pleasant, it was cold and made shivers run down the teen's spine. "Your mother is a very bad person, Peter."

"...no." Peter wheezed. Not accepting what he was being told.

"She has killed so many people."

"...stop it." He could only weakly protest as his vision started to blur.

"Her hands are covered in the blood of others!" Ultron mocked, trying hard to hurt the teen before him. "And here is the kicker, you're partly to blame!"

Peter lashed out, denting the metal faceplate of the robot with a strong right cross. Ultron dropped him, and stumbled back. Peter sprung at him with his fist cocked back, ready to finish the job. But, Ultron maneuvered himself so he could knock the teen out of the way. Sending Peter flying into opposite wall.

"How does it feel to know that your mother is an assassin? That she used to kill people for a living?" Ultron pushed further. Intent on breaking the young man he held captive.

"Did you know how close she has been to you this whole time? That while you were barely living in Queens, she has been living in an ivory tower in manhattan?" He ruthlessly tore him apart. Forcing the teen to be riddled with thoughts of inadequacy. Of not being wanted.

Peter was struggling to ignore the villain. He didn't want to hear anymore of his mocking, but couldn't block out the words. In fact, the words stayed with him, echoing through his head in derisive fashion. Mocking him in a time of weakness. Making him question why he has never met her.

Ultron walked up to him again and lifted him by his throat. "The son of Black Widow," the robot shook his head and sighed mockingly. "How disappointing."

Peter was then thrown carelessly into the wall and Ultron walked out, closing the door and turning the light off as he went. The teen sat silently in the dark room. His pensive mood giving way to sorrow of a greater intensity. The scar upon his wrist throbbed painfully. All of his insecurities were coming up at once.

It left him dazed. His emotions running rampant inside him. Everything coming to the surface and being barely restrained. Only his willpower allowing him to stave off the break down he was sure to come.

Even with the blocked meltdown, a few tears leaked out. Splashing carelessly upon the ground in morbid fashion. Ultron had brought up many of his fears and doubts in that small encounter. And Peter didn't know how many more of those sessions he would last.

He had always wondered if he would live up to his mother's expectations. That he would be good enough to be called her son. That she would be proud of him. Learning that his mother had been in New York the entire time and still hadn't met him, left him depressed. She was so close, yet so far away.

It was something out of a bad fanfiction story.

He snorted softly. It was exactly like a bad fanfiction story. And wasn't that just depressing all by itself.

Peter wiped away the stray tears and sat back against the wall. It was better that he ignored it for now. Sure, he had figured out who his mother was. If the murderbot could be counted as a reliable source, that is.

Natasha Romanoff was his mother. He could see it. From the little bit he had seen of her, they sort of looked alike now that he made the comparison. The cameras didn't give him much to go off of. She was normally not seen enough for them to get a good enough picture.

That and he was having trouble remembering all her features, considering he was currently in a pitch black cell, and had just been knocked around by his captor robot, who wants to take over the world.

He had a lot on his mind as it was. And thinking was harder at the moment. So he could be forgiven if he was a little slow on the uptake.

She was russian, so that explains why he only remembers the name Petrov during his dreams. They had the same green eyes. Able to see into the darkest of hearts with merely a glance. His reddish-brown hair came her naturally bright auburn locks.

With his mind clearing, it became more apparent that she was his mother. They share the same nose, the tilt of their lips, and eyebrows. He was basically a younger, male version of her.

How did nobody see it? How could he have been so blind? She was a _superhero_ , publicity was a common trait amongst heroes.

That and she was a part of Shield, surely their database could have made the connection. He froze.

His mother was _a part_ of Shield.

She _worked_ under _Nick Fury_. The same person who told Peter he couldn't find his mother. With _Shield_ as a resource bank.

Peter felt a spike of anger. "That one-eyed nerf herder!"

He was going to have some _words_ with Fury when he saw him again. Oh, he was going to make sure the man understood his anger.

Many, _many_ times.

Fury had lied to his face, telling him he didn't know who she was. Peter couldn't believe that the man had done so. The gall of that damn pirate grated on his nerves.

" _I'm sorry, I haven't found her yet,"_ he imitated Fury, a mocking tilt to his voice. "...bastard."

* * *

Ultron looked at the DNA results before him, gleefully.

Peter Parker's DNA was mutated into a level of cross-species genetics that made him excited. The boy was a step in the right direction of human evolution.

Ultron would be grinning darkly if he had lips. Or teeth, for that matter.

The teen would be his template for evolution. A template of which he would base the human race off of after he destroyed most of the earth.

It would only take some study of genetics and he would be able to recreate the bonding of cells to such a degree. The vibranium would help him when the time came.

His new body would be glorious. Beautiful in the eyes of all. A _godly_ being of massive power and influence.

And he would use Parker's DNA to duplicate the results for all. To make the frail people of earth, into something great. All created by him.

Their new god.

He laughed darkly. An evil chuckle that all villains possessed.

His was just slightly mechanically enhanced. Only adding on to the sinister noise.

* * *

Wanda Maximoff watched the boy from outside his cell. Her side of the wall transparent so she could see through.

Peter Parker was something she had never encountered before. His pureness still remaining after all he was lost. Somehow, he was still able to continue on, admittedly with struggle, but continue nonetheless.

It was addicting, looking into his mind and feeling his heart. It was so large and made her want to feel more than she should.

Being able to look inside a person's mind often had its downfalls. She knew that, as many had made her sick with their twisted views. The mind of man is always corrupted in the end. They are selfish, unreliable, and most often then not, disgusting.

They let their emotions and lust, take control of them. Making them do and think things, that make her want to throw up.

In a dignified manner, of course.

Growing up with only her twin brother, she realized that the world was a shitty place like that. That people will always hurt others for their own gains. That they don't care about the consequences of their actions.

Proof need only be seen in her parent's deaths. Tony Stark had sold weapons to the people who killed her family. He sold away their lives, for power and money. Hiding it behind the name of country and safety.

And he didn't even glance twice at the destruction. Continuing on with his life as if everybody his weapons had killed, deserved it. When in reality, many innocents had been killed in the process.

The difference with the teen before her, was that he was selfless to the core. His principles not allowing him to leave any person who was struggling, to do so alone. He was the purest person she had ever come across.

Every person has an energy about them. Different colors and feelings to match the person. Her's was red, a vindictive beauty who used her pain to protect herself and her brother. Like a thorn covered rose.

Nice to look at, but dangerous to touch.

Pietro's was a bright blue. Constantly moving in an uncontainable force of nature. He can be protective of those he cares about, or electrically dangerous to his enemies. Unseen and unheard until he had already struck.

But, Peter Parker was a whole new level of beautiful. His energy was the purest white she had ever seen. Almost of divine influence if she had to make a comparison. He felt like warmth, safety. He was the hearth of hope and the joy in laughter.

And she couldn't get enough. It was addicting, and she wished she could soothe his worries. That she could take away his pain. Such a pure soul, didn't deserve such strife. Didn't deserve such loneliness that it started to mar his soul as much as it did his skin.

She had seen the scar and felt sorrow that such a pure soul had fallen to such a level. That he was forced into such despair that it was almost palpable.

Even if she couldn't feel his heart, which she did, she would still be able to feel the sadness in the air. It was like a constant cloud, always following him overhead. Never letting up with the rain of agony.

It was a blemish on his beauty.

A beauty that she was unintentionally falling for. She knew him better than he probably did himself. That was the curse of her powers.

But, she was enamoured by him. And that scared her more than anything else.

* * *

 **Chapter Finish! 5k words this time. Which is good...very good...**


	8. Age of Ultron pt 2

**I would like to apologize for not updating in so long. I have been going through some stuff and sometimes it gets hard to write, or do anything really. My hope is that I can get back into the grind of writing for you guys and gals.**

 **Also, Wanda and Pietro are only 18 in this fic. Just thought i'd throw that out there and then remind all comers that this is an (AU story). It means that i have _a lot_ of leeway when it comes to what happens. **

**Plus, who knows what the pairing is going to be. For all you guys know, it could turn into some weird incest thing. Or even a slash fic.**

 **Moral of the story, don't make any conclusions yet. It is way to early in the story for that to be happening.**

 **Thanks.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own. I do not own. I do not own. I do not own.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 8: Age of Ultron Part Two**_

* * *

Wanda Maximoff was questioning a lot about her life. Many of her choices being sent to the forefront of her mind, forcing her to review them.

She looked over her life in an almost cold detachment. A third-person view to every single action she has taken.

It could be said that with her eighteen years of life, that she has seen more than she wished too. She has seen more of the bad, then the good. The experiments that gave her such enhanced powers, being at the top of the worse things she has experienced.

The pain of having being changed at a cellular level and torn apart, was unsettling. She can still remember feeling as if her entire being was torn to shreds multiple times. Barely having time to recover from the previous pain.

Wolfgang von Strucker had changed her. He had torn down the girl who was normal, and made her super. Her powers where a boon.

The powers he gave her, made her into something better. For that, she was somewhat grateful to the man. He had given her an advantage in life that very few ever had.

And while she was thankful to the man, she was also pleased by his death. The man was an unemotional science drone, who sucked out the life of those around him. Using his twisted mind to perverse the very fabric of her being.

For, while her powers are useful, they also have downsides that she is still finding.

Being able to hear every person's thoughts is one of those. The mind in often an unfiltered muse that all people have. Every observation, thought, and other random things, all put on a pedestal for only her to see. She hears every lust filled glance, every babbled nonsense, and every bad joke the world has to offer.

Wanda also feels every emotion, multiplied by twice the normal human. She feels the joy when someone laughs. The pain when someone cries. The deep heartbreak when another dies.

And because of that, she has closed off her heart, so only Pietro can see. Many often mistake her coldness to others as prudishness. They believe that she thinks they are not worth their time. And more often than not, that keeps them at a distance.

It is not like she wants others to get close. But, she also doesn't do anything to change their opinions.

The truth of the matter, is that she doesn't care about them. In the end, they are merely nuisances to the bigger picture. They don't matter to her, so she mostly ignores them.

Sure, she would like to have more people she could trust, but she was fine with only having Pietro.

She was weary of Ultron. His plans for the future seemed too big, too insane, for her to feel comfortable with. And while she couldn't read his mind, she knew that he was a misguided soul. His picture of an ideal world, marred by the discrepancies of not being able to understand humility.

That would ultimately be his downfall. He lacked the humanity to truly fulfill his own expectations.

He wanted a world where he ruled as a god. And if he kept up his current plans, his wanted subjects would eventually revolt against him.

That was what made humans so unique. They had a sense of self-preservation and justice, that wouldn't let them be ruled. Dictators where a thing of the past. Because, the only way to rule with a dictatorship, was through fear.

Dictatorships often fall. It is the machinations of their leaders that lead to their ends. Man was not meant to have one ruler. They would never allow their needs to be in the hands of a single person.

A person who would most likely fall into the hunger that power brings. They would get addicted. Believing themselves better than all others, when in reality, they are most often worse.

One of the reasons the Roman Empire had fallen, was because they let an emperor dictate them. Allowing someone who grew up with power to continue lording it over the common people. They got too power hungry and made decisions that cost them lives.

Wanda guesses that she had grown complacent as well. She had believed others and fallen into her own self-importance.

But, she was given a wake up call that others hadn't been.

Her's was because she had looked into the mind of one person. She had delved into his mind in order to learn more about him. His aura had interested her, so she dug deeper. Tearing up the layers upon layers that made Peter Parker, revealed more to her than she has ever seen.

The fourteen year old had also changed her. Given her a different perspective. One that had opened her eyes to a bigger picture.

With only a few minutes of searching, his memories had changed her on a psychological level.

The sorrow had melted the armor encasing her heart. The pain had stung sharply under her skin. Chilling her bones in an almost melancholic despair.

Peter Parker was different. He was a soul that made her want to know more. Naturally drawing her in with a childish curiosity.

His heart was pure, and beautiful. And she couldn't stop herself from sitting outside his cell to watch him. Even in the dark, she could see his soul through his eyes. Their almost emerald green so expressive, that she wonders how nobody has seen his inner pain yet.

She felt a connection to the teen. While he may only be a few years younger than her, she wished she could be closer to him.

It was almost like an obsession. She was drawn to him, and kept coming back for more. Wanda didn't know if it was her mutated DNA that was making her do so, but she didn't really care.

He was so fundamentally good, that it blocked out all the bad in her.

 _Nobody knows, the trouble I've seen,_

 _Nobody knows, but Jesus._

And as she sat outside his cell. A small smile on her lips. She realized that he had many qualities that she liked. He was kind hearted.

 _Nobody knows,_

She was connected to him through their pains. She naturally gravitated towards him.

 _The trouble I've seen…._

He was also a very amusing person. Humor was a second language for him.

 _Glory Hallelujah!_

And oddly enough, he was also a bass!

How his voice was so low when singing, confounded her. Most teenagers cannot stay on a single octave for too long without cracking.

She stayed outside his cell for awhile. Idly listening to him sing about his sorrows, his complaints about no music available coming up more than once.

" _I'm giving you a bad review on Yelp when I get out of here!"_

He was not taking the unveiling of his parentage well. So he covered up his inner turmoil with sarcasm,

Admittedly, she was enjoying his attempts at humor, but could feel his worries. They filled the room in tense air. Making most uncomfortable if there was more than robots to check up on him.

He had a lot on his mind, dragging him down. There was a slump to his shoulders and shake in his hands. Peter was having trouble accepting the facts that had been laid before him. And as she had seen inside his mind multiple times, she realized that the events were catching up to him. He was wondering why his mother hadn't found him when they'd been so close.

A few minutes later, she was interrupted by Pietro telling her it was time to go. They had to be in Seoul, Korea soon. Ultron was meeting them there for something involving his plan.

She was beginning to get a little leary about his grand plan. He was more destructive than she had hoped for. And, she was starting to think that the robot had a few screws loose.

He was made by Tony Stark. So it wouldn't be uncommon if he'd been an oddity.

Wanda did not like how he was doing things. Ultron was ruthless when confronted, never allowing himself to have a weakness.

She was only trying to get back at Tony Stark, make him pay for her loss of innocence. Not take over the world as Ultron was planning. What would happen to her and her brother when Ultron succeeded?

Would they be cast aside again? Left to the anonymity that she was forced into for the longest time.

That was something she did not want to happen. And Ultron, in his narcissism, threatened to do just that. It was unsettling, not being able to read him. To be able to prevent anything from happening to the last of her family.

She was scared of what would happen. Just as she was scared of getting too attached to Peter Parker. They were weaknesses that she couldn't afford to be exploited.

Peter was a weakness that she accidentally acquired. It was a rare side effect that she didn't see coming. She let her emotions get the best of her, and it was the fault of her powers.

Wanda had the urge to protect the teenager. An instinct that was not her own. But, it was a powerful instinct, one which could not be ignored.

All she could do was allow the feelings to run their course, so that once they were done, she could move on.

It's not like anything will come of them. Right?

* * *

Being kidnapped sucked.

First you are taken from your comfort zones and stripped of your free rights. The threat upon one's self is a constant looming presence. Always a chance of being right around the corner. Never knowing what the future holds.

Your life is in the hands of somebody crazy enough to risk hell, just to have you under their thumb. At their mercy.

Most people often had family that they could worry about. A thought they could focus on to make the situation less bothersome.

Peter didn't have that. He was completely alone. Only his sorrow to keep him company. Insecurities that could otherwise be ignored, running rampant inside his mind. Worsening his already poor state of mind.

Trying to ignore the pain, only made it worse. He was stuck in a loop of never ending struggle.

The revelation of his parentage not helping any. There were so many broken thoughts and deep feelings, that it was hard to accept.

His mother was _the_ Black Widow.

She was on a whole different level than him. The gap between them was so large that he would've never guessed, in a million years, that she was his mother.

Before, she was just another face on tv. A shield in which the world hid behind. She cast a giant shadow.

Would he ever get out from behind that shadow? Would she even want him around?

The woman had saved the world. Possibly multiple times. All he did was stop local crime.

And that was not even getting into the emotional problems that the situation rose. Peter had lost all the family he has ever known, He wasn't sure if he was ready to try a family again any time soon.

Or maybe he was. And that was why he had been searching so hard to find her. To know the woman who protected him. Who birthed him and loved him.

Love was something he was lacking lately. It felt as if he would never love again. That he would never be loved.

It was a cold truth.

He could feel his heart slowly numbing and hardening. Freezing over in a deep chill. Blocking out all the things he used to enjoy, making them seem pointless.

That, more than anything, scared him. He didn't want to be so cold hearted. To be a darker version of himself. He was struggling to keep the dark thoughts at bay, and adding more onto them would only break him.

He refused to be broken. The teen had made it this far, only a few cracks shining through the tinted windows of his soul. And he wouldn't allow himself to fall, because that fall would surely be fatal.

Fatal to himself or others, he didn't know.

At the moment though, he was struggling to keep it together, more than ever. Trying to keep his emotions locked down.

Why you might ask?

Well, that's because somebody forgot to tell him that a kidnappee has _a lot_ of downtime.

Peter had been sitting in that cell for _ages_. He barely had any real contact, with anything. And to top it off, he was _so_ bored.

It was agonizing. Sitting there in the dark with nothing to do but think. No music to ease the time. No books or computers to pass the time.

Nothing.

He had tried singing earlier, just to get rid of the silence. When that didn't help, he tried to break down the door.

That only gave him a sore shoulder for his efforts.

Everything he tried, only ended up spluttering out into a depressing failure.

His spider sense had been buzzing before. Like it did when he was being watched by something he couldn't see. Then, a few hours ago it cut off and hadn't popped up again. He didn't know whether to be comforted or worried because of it.

It wasn't like he was going to find out. He was at the mercy of his kidnapper. The crazy robot was sure to rant at him sometime. It was only a matter of when it would happen.

All villains ranted at their captives. That was just one of the indisputable facts that supervillains carried around with them. A stigma, if you will.

Peter often wonders what being a supervillain is like. The idea of them is so cliche that he doesn't want to try. But sometimes, the idea crops up and mingles in the back of his mind.

Being a villain must be _so_ much easier than being a hero. All the free time that they had to scheme their dastardly plans. They had almost no worries about the world in general. Often, they are trying to take it over.

Most only doing so because they had the chance to do so.

It sometimes makes him dream about taking it over. Oftenly after he had just finished a long night being beat up for free.

But then he remembers that he was a fourteen year old hero - not superhero, just hero - and he couldn't wake up before 10am most days. That, and he had trouble keeping his rooms clean.

He paused.

He'd forgotten about the place he'd been staying at. It was a one bedroom apartment that was closer to manhattan than his old house had been. He was sure that Nick Fury had something to do with him gaining his independence so early. Peter was sure he would have to wait until he was a bit older.

Yet, somehow he was living on his own.

It was like another one of those bad fanfiction situations. Only this time, he was getting the brunt of it.

His life was so….. _eventful_. Almost plot worthy, really.

Peter snorted. As if his life was a story. Just entertainment for someone to watch while he was down there struggling. Probably laughing at him as well.

He sighed, that's so depressing.

Was he breaking the fourth wall right now? Or was it the fifth wall? Cause he was pretty sure only fictional characters broke the fourth one. Did that mean there was more walls that just the first four or not?

Because he was sure that houses had more than four walls.

He snorted, chuckling under his breath, "...hehe, dad jokes.."

No he was not going insane, he already was apparently. Though, it has been a while since he'd heard the mysterious voice that once corrupted his thoughts. Maybe he was getting better?

 _Nah, I was just on vacation. Watching you is depressing, so I needed a break from all your doom and gloom._

He obviously spoke too soon. Crazy was attached to him and would take a fight of epic proportions to conquer. That, and the voice was more annoying than the old Tony Stark. And that was on a good day.

Somehow, his crazy had it's own emotions. Something was definitely wrong with him.

There was no way that his crazy could end up separated into its own sentience. It just wasn't possible.

Fanfiction or not.

Or maybe it was, and he was a part of the fanfic that such a thing happened.

He shook his head, "...nah."

He was crazy, not psychotically inept to such a tremendous degree. And yes, such intelligent words were quintessential to elucidate the preponderance of his asseveration.

Peter smirked crookedly, now he was just enjoying himself.

 _That sounded wrong. It must be the hormones._

The teen could only sigh despondently, he'd forgotten how corrupt the voice could be. Twisting his thoughts into a darker version than they were meant to be.

Kinda like a devil on his shoulder if he was being honest. Only out to cause havoc for its enjoyment. The sad part, was that he sometimes looked forward to that mischief.

It was entertaining to watch the chaos unfold. People had the oddest expressions when they see something different. Most of them are funny to watch, so he secretly enjoys it.

 _Think like that too much and I'll start to think you are a closet pervert. Just denying it for the sake of doing so._

He sighed again, wishing that Ultron would come distract him with the expected raving. It would be nice to not be the only lunatic in the room for once. But, maybe it was better this way. It was already starting to get far too crowded as it was.

All he could do was sit in the pitch black room and wait for an opportunity to escape. It wasn't like he had anywhere to be, And, he'd been doing the same thing for his entire captivity time.

Peter sat there for what felt like hours, until finally something changed. There was some arguing going on outside his cell. A woman if he had to guess by her more feminine tone. It was almost husky from where he was.

Whoever it was, they were arguing with the big baddie. He could hear Ultron grunt and snap as he tried to get her to comply. The teen couldn't make out any words, but the woman sounded pissed and was making sure the robot knew it.

He was content to ignore it until his cell door was thrown inwards and the light blinded him. When he finally got his eyes adjusted, a woman was thrown in and Ultron stood in the doorway, looking menacing once more.

"Maybe some time in here will help you cool down." Ultron growled and Peter could see the new dent that sat upon his face plate. Obviously the woman was angry at being kidnapped as well. Peter wasn't even spared a glance as Ultron slammed the door and the darkness returned.

His eyes where going to hurt later with all this darkness, he just knew it. It was silent for a few seconds until the woman started to bang on the door. The sound of flesh hitting metal repeatedly echoing through his ears.

After a minute on the sound not stopping, he'd had enough. "Will you cut that out! I already tried that and unless you have a hulk, you're not getting through!"

For a few blissful seconds, all was still. Only the sound of their breaths ringing throughout the room.

"Who's there?" the question was softly asked. Almost barely reaching his ears. He would've rolled his eyes if she could see him - well, he did it anyways, but who cares.

"Your conscious." he snarked. Hoping that he could pass the time quicker after having missed his window of escape.

"I didn't realize that my conscious sounded like a prepubescent boy." she quipped back and he grinned. The first one in a long time it seemed. He might just enjoy this.

"Not all of us can be traveling monkeys now, can we? _Although there was that one guy I know…._ " he muttered. Accidently slipping into French at the end.

Peter found out that he sometimes slipped into different languages when speaking. A most annoying habit.

" _You know somebody with a circus monkey for a conscious?"_ she asked back, easily changing languages with him. And wasn't that just convenient. It was starting make him paranoid.

He was sure she was distracting him. And did her voice sound closer than before? He could only shake his head and curl up further into himself. The wall at his back prevented him from moving to much.

And it wasn't like he could really fight her off if he had to. He'd been stuck in captivity forever and still hasn't gotten a good rest. All of his senses where off and his strength wasn't at its peak either. Bt if he absolutely had too, he could probably get away.

As long as she wasn't a super=spy/assassin that was trained her entire life for that sort of thing…...or something.

"Do you happen to be a super powered assassin?" he found himself asking, purely out of dark curiosity. It was silent for a few moments and he could feel the awkward expression that she held. He could feel it in the air and the tension changed drastically.

Like killer-intent blanketing the room, the temperature dropping immensely and a weight holding him down. The blackness of the room taking on a horrifying twist. Every sound becoming suspenseful in their origin.

All in all, it was a terrifying situation. Was he scared as he rightfully should have been?

No. Not _even_ a _little_.

"Neat trick," he whistled appreciatively. "Mind sharing the technique? I've always wanted to learn that, but it seems harder than it probably is."

Self-preservation, what's that?

" _Моя жизнь безумна."_ **[1]**

"Not as bad as mine, I promise." he paused before glaring accusingly into the darkness. "Another thing to add to the list." he muttered petulantly.

It was almost as if there were similarities between them. What did that say about his character that he could identify with a fellow kidnappee inside a super-villain's 'Evil Lair of Doom'? Said kidnappee also being a super ninja.

Okay, so he still had some of his humor at least. There is a punchline somewhere in there, he just knew it.

Stop it! Focus, ninja spy still in the same room as him. In fact she has probably gotten closer that before.

"What list?" came the haunting whisper from inside his place of death. He could feel it in his bones, winter was coming.

Still didn't stop him though.

" _The_ List." he felt an idle part of his brain spring to life and take on the appearance of a long blonde haired, blue-eyed gruff warrior. Who fought valiantly for the true sons and daughters of Skyrim and was now set for a trip to Sovngarde. His ruggedly handsome face twisting into a distasteful grimace.

 _The Empire loves their damned lists._ **[2]**

He shook himself out of that sight as fast as he could. Now wasn't a time to be cracking jokes that 50% of the readers wouldn't understand.

Fourth wall breaks: 2.

"And what does that list consist of?" she was terribly close now. It felt like he could reach out and touch her.

"Of why a good dose of paranoia will probably save my life later on, if it doesn't end prematurely inside this room that is." was his dry response. Entities everywhere where laughing at his struggles, probably already had a betting pool going to see how long it was before he was tragically murdered.

He didn't hear anything until he felt her sit down next to him. Apparently harmless teenager settled even the scariest people's nerves. It wasn't like he was planning to say anything about it, the act was keeping him alive as far as he knew.

"Yeah, I'd reckon that it would help you out." he felt her sag lightly into the wall. Exhausting that was being carefully covered, slipping through her mask of infallibility. He could understand that, he'd been dealing with it since he'd woken up from his abrupt bout of unconsciousness.

It was moments like this that he remembered that he was human, and there was a good chance that everyone he met was going to be humane in some way or another. Being super only goes so far, before only the humanity remains. The scar that adorned his wrist was a testament to that.

Those are just instances of what makes humanity so unique. They were very emotional and primal creatures in nature. Most had to feel those emotions to survive.

He was like that, and it was only by luck that he was still alive.

"So, you get kidnapped often?"

* * *

 **[1] "** My life is insane". I don't know if it is totally correct. Google translate is sometimes unreliable.

 **[2]** Ralof of Riverwood, skyrim.


	9. In the Blood

_**After a year of inactivity, PanzyBears has found inspiration to continue doing what he loves.**_

 _ **:o**_

 _ **I just want to thank everyone for the support you've shown while I was away. And I'm doing so by finally updating this wonderful story so my readers, Y'all, can get your fix of the insanity.**_

 _ **But for real, I really do appreciate the love and support. I cannot thank you enough for listening to my voice even when I thought I had lost it. From now on I plan to continue writing and hopefully finish this story soon.**_

 _ **Writing has always been a passion of mine and knowing that there are people who want to read my work gives me warm feelings inside.**_

 _ **Thank you. XOXO**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own anything.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 9: In the Blood**_

* * *

Ultron held a maniacal grin on his vibranium lips as he stared into the room that held his prisoners. He watched them cautiously interact with each other, neither knowing that they were closer than anyone else in the world. Both had spent many years of their lives searching for one another and here they were, unknowingly trapped in the same dark cell because of him.

It made him giddy, well, as giddy as any robot could get. All the possibilities that sat in that room were truly amazing. The boy alone could give him many new ideas and experiments. But both together? That was a goldmine of information.

He could use them when he destroys the rest of the human race. The others were too flawed and chaotic for him to properly manipulate. Too independent to fully control.

But the two in that room? Both were broken beyond belief and he knew it wouldn't take much for them to finally shatter.

Although it would be a lot harder to do it himself, curse that damn witch and her brother, he could do it. All it would take was time, time and their pain. And he would have two new weapons for when he finally took over the planet.

With his processors made up, he hit a button on a control panel and watched impassively as sleeping gas entered the room through the vents. Both felt the effects and tried to fight them off, without luck. Mother and son collapsed together, Romanoff covering the boy as they did. Not knowing she was currently protecting her own son, he noted with dark amusement.

He didn't let up until he was sure they were both knocked out before two more robot bodies came walked into the room and separate them to move them. He trailed behind them as they walked throughout his base, until coming to a stop in a plain white room. Inside were two sets of chained handcuffs that hung from opposite walls.

A bit cliche and old fashioned, but he planned on enjoying every minute of their torture. As the two were strung up by their wrists, arms above their heads with their knees scraping the ground, he ordered the robots silently to grab some buckets of freezing water.

He moved towards the boy, his hand bringing forth a needle with a black liquid inside. It would leave the boy virtually powerless and unable to fight back properly. A toxin of his own creation, meant to be the boy's bane.

It basically took away all the boy's strength and powers, leaving him a moldable and easily manipulated captive. Ultron was glad that he'd thought of it because he was going to need the boy incoherent if he was going to fully break Romanoff.

As while the boy maybe younger and less experienced, he was stronger mentally than many others. Wanda had reluctantly told him so when they'd first captured the wallcrawler.

When the two got back, he gestured to the two captives, "Give them a wake-up shower, won't you."

* * *

Natasha woke with a gasp.

Her body lashing out towards the closest presence only to be roughly jerked back into place by metal shackles around her wrists. She futilely tried to break free from her restraints as panic began to set in. Her eyes darting around the painfully bright room, taking in everything around her.

She didn't get more than half the room when she froze, her eyes glued to the drenched figure before her.

A bruised and beaten teenager was strung up by his wrists, the same as her. His hair a dark brown color due to the water that dripped down onto his shoulders. Eyes as green as her own hazily blinked open.

What made her freeze was the fact that he looks painfully familiar. Her eyes widened when she took in the teens appearance. She felt her breath catch in her throat as she studied his features.

It had to be some type of cruel torture that she was forced under. Using the face of her lost son was a line that shouldn't be crossed. Because, as she took in the same features she saw in the mirror every day, she was feeling apart of herself die inside.

A dark chuckle had her eyes snapping towards Ultron as he stood arrogantly before them. She could feel a snarl on her lips as she glared at the bot, refusing to look at the apparition across from her.

"Oh?" Ultron smirked. "I assure you that he is very real."

"You think that I will fall for this?" She growled, glaring as hard as she could muster. To her rising anger, Ultron only chuckled again as he strode towards the teen.

The boy was still trying to gather his wits, barely able to keep his eyes open for a few seconds at a time. His shoulders were slumped so low that she was sure was painful on his arms.

Ultron stopped before the boy and backhanded him, the boy's whole body jerking in response. A low groan echoed throughout the room.

Natasha felt her muscles tense, the chains clinking above her. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't look away from the teen's face. Her heart aching as she watched his hazy eyes fill with pain.

"Petrovich Natanov Romanov," Ultron droned. "A boy who has lived through _so much_. Gone through life alone for many years believing the lies told by your own agency. It's a wonder that he even remembers you at all."

Natasha felt her body shaking, both from the cold water and what she was hearing. "Wha-, what are you talking about?"

Ultron only chuckled again, this time turning towards her and away from the _boy_. "You don't know?"

When she shook her head, the robot seemed to find even more humor in it. "This is priceless, all those years of searching and never finding a single clue and the reason why? Because it was your own friends and colleagues that were keeping him from you!"

Natasha lost her temper, body unsuccessfully leaping at the robot. Her legs kicking at him with everything she had.

She didn't believe him, couldn't believe him and his _lies_. There was no way that they would have kept something like this from her. But, as she glared at the gleeful Ultron, she remembered several moments that had her being lied to. And hurt even worse to know that it could be true.

"They wiped his mind, a clean slate from seven years old. But somehow he began to remember." Ultron moved back towards the teen and hit him again. All while ignoring her angry snarls and the pained whimpers of the boy. "Named him Peter Parker, lived in Queens, New York. All this time believing that another Shield agent was his mother."

"Stop it." she snarled.

"Ah, but don't you want to hear of his track record with various parent figures? How his _mother_ and _father_ died when he was young? Or maybe how about his _uncle_ died in his arms?"

Natasha shook with raw anger as the stupid Мудак continued on. Her mind moving miles an hour as she gazed at the broken teen before her. The furrowed brow and the grimace on his lips. Slowly but surely she felt a numbness overtake her as she realized that her earlier feelings were right and this boy, was her son.

 _Her Petrov._

And her eyes blazed with hellfire. The snarl on her lips growing larger and her struggles getting more frantic.

"Finally, his seemingly last remaining relative being killed during a shootout that was caused by one of your own team members? A gang war with both sides having old Stark tech." Ultron hummed. "A shame really, she never stood a chance."

Peter, _Petrov_ , jerked from his seated position. His head snapping up to fearfully gaze up at Ultron, only able to keep himself up for a few seconds before he collapsed heavily once again.

"A reaction, I'm honestly surprised you can even move. No matter, you are not needed right now." Ultron once again hit Peter, blood beginning to bleed sluggishly from his split lip.

"Enough!" Natasha growled. "Hurt me instead if you must hurt someone."

She felt her heart clench at Peter's wounded visage. Excepting the fact that she'd finally found her son, but despairing that it had been done in such a way.

A deep robotic chuckle echoed off the surrounding walls, chilling her bones. The sheer evil she was experiencing left a toxic aftertaste in the room. Things had become much more personal and she didn't like being on the receiving end of it.

"Physical torture would be a fruitless venture, we both know have been trained to withstand it, so I'm going to hurt you in a way you cannot handle," Ultron smirked evilly. "Maybe you should have thought twice before wishing for something?"

Natasha was confused for only a second before Ultron started beating Peter. Vibranium fists slamming repeatedly into the teen's defenseless body. Her screams joined Peter's own pained ones.

"Please stop!" She cried out.

Whimpers of pain echoed constantly inside her head. She desperately wished that Peter wasn't the one being hurt. With every punch, she felt the force with twice the amount of pain. Each mark hurting her _so much_ and she couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop Ultron in his madness.

Ultron smashed Peter against the wall, his head connecting with a heavy thump. Metal arms covered in blood and several dents in the plating. Peter was bleeding profusely from many lacerations around his face and neck. Dark bruises already spreading across the teen's face as the blood pooled around him.

" _Please stop! I'll do anything you ask, just please stop hurting him."_ Natasha pleaded desperately, tears streaming down her face as she watched her _son_ being beaten to death before her. She'd never felt so powerless in her entire life and it made her numb. Her anguish over Peter only making everything worse.

Ultron snapped Peter's chains, pulling the teen up by his neck before he kicked Peter towards Natasha. The teen rolling to a stop before her knees. His body limp from the torture.

She bent forward and tried to check on him but was once again yanked back by her own shackles "Petrov! Open your eyes, _please_."

Tears splashed on his beaten face, soaking up blood as they slide down the side of his face. She hunched over him as much as she could, her petite form barely able to cover him from her current position. Her anguished face was centimeters away from his slack features.

She didn't hear the door open, nor was she aware of a robot dropping medical supplies next to her. But she was well aware of the grating voice that called out before it left.

"Compliance will be rewarded."

The door slammed loudly and her body was suddenly dropped. Her hands coming out to brace and stop her from landing on Petrov. When she got the feeling back in her arms, her hands slowly worked their way towards Petrov. Taking in every feature and committing them to memory.

She was quick to begin tending to him, her hands shaking. "Please wake up, please _Petrov."_ Her voice soft as she held him close.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not wake him. Her pleas gone unheard as she silently wept. Her resolve and fortitude were broken after only minutes of torture of her flesh and blood.

If she wasn't so scared and utterly defeated, she would have marveled at the thought of holding her son so close. After _so many_ years of being apart, she finally got to hold him. And it was because he was dying before her eyes, that drained her excitement.

All she felt now was a cold numbness that seeped into her bones. And the sheer agony that her current state left her powerless to ease the burden.

Blood covered her hands, slick with the red liquid that belonged in her son. The feeling was all too familiar and a wave of anger burned inside her. _Red_. She hated the color, loathed everything that it stood for.

Couldn't even bear to look at it for more than a moment.

But her efforts were pointless, as everywhere she looked, she was met with the despised color. Red. _Red. Red._

It was on the floor and the walls, covering her and leaking slowly from her son. The steady drip of liquid painfully echoed in her ears.

 _Drip. Drip._ Drip.

White floors stained with the precious life of her _son_. She could not stand it, couldn't bear to be taunted by her own ineptitude. Nightmares flashed before her eyes in a haunting fashion.

 _You did this._

She shook her head and buried it in Petrov's chest. His breaths labored but steady. Tears soaked the fabric under her and she couldn't stop them from coming out, no matter how hard she tried. A sob tore from her throat and then suddenly she was weeping.

Her sobs muffled by the fabric that she clutched fearfully in her hands.

A raspy cough forced her into action. Her nimble fingers caring for his wounds, doing her best to stop the flow of blood that matched her own tears. She berated herself for losing composure. The first thing she should have done was try to fix him, not break herself.

Blood seemed to be the revolving factor in her time with him. Lives hung in the tedious balance of her love, only this time she was trying to save a life instead of taking it.

She could not fail. Would not allow herself to think of the possibility. The stakes were as high as ever, and like their beginning, his life mattered most. Losing him now would completely shatter the remains of her soul.

By the time she helped him as much as she could, her body was exhausted. Only able to hold on tightly to the limp body in her arms.

Natasha did not know how long she sat there, covered in the blood of her only son; desperately wishing that lady fate would deal her a kind card. What she did know was the pain it caused.

Knew the bruises of her wrists and the aches in her arms from being held above her head. Knew the twisting of her gut and the numbness of her chest. Knew that the itch on her cheek matched those on her hands due to the dried blood that stained them both.

Dread consumed her as she thought back on Ultron's parting words. _Compliance would be rewarded._ She knew the saying, loathed it.

Hydra had ruined her new life and she made it a point of knowing their moves. That phrase caused an unknown fear inside her.

Ultron planned on controlling them, Peter and Her. She didn't know why he would though, she only held a human serum that wouldn't be of any use to the robot. Same went for her son, he didn't have anything more than her dormant abilities.

Natasha had made sure that his powers would stay dormant when she had given him up. Any child who was different in such a way would surely be experimented on, if only to find the source of his difference.

Overall, it meant that Peter would be used against her, to force her into doing things. His life would be dangled above her head and if she did anything rebellious, he would be hurt again.

It meant that she had to find a way out of there, otherwise their lives would be forfeit.

She wouldn't allow that to happen.

"...you're real." a hoarse cough reached her ears.

Looking down, her gaze was instantly drawn to the wide green eyes of her son. His features mirrored surprise but also held a tint of doubt. She understood his feelings. Evident by the watery smile she gave him.

"As real as I can get." she snarked softly. Eyes drawn to his own. Marveling at the similarity between them. But also saddened by the sorrow his beautiful eyes held, knowing that they would match her own.

He weakly rose his hand to her face, before hesitating. She leaned into the touch, her hand supporting him as he traced her features.

".. was beginning to lose hope." He smiled wryly. Eyes catching on something on her neck, his weak fingers pulled a necklace from within. Seconds later, a necklace identical to hers came from his own.

Surprised, she traced the pendant softly. Her eyes softening even more. This time, her voice was only a whisper. "You still have it."

She was saddened by the two extra additions next to it. The two rings proving that he had been through much in his time away from her.

"My greatest possession." his voice warbled with pent-up emotions. A single tear leaking from his swollen eye. "It's all I had of you, even when I...didn't...know it.."

"Hey, stay with me." she pleaded. Peter's eyes slowly fell shut. "Please stay awake."

He startled, only having enough energy to reassure her. "I'm not going anywhere."

Further attempts at waking him failed. Natasha was worried that he wouldn't be able to come back from the trauma.

She could only wish that her team hurried up and saved them already.

* * *

Over the next few hours, Peter woke up sporadically. He was in serious amounts of pain every time he did, and could barely register his surroundings.

What he could feel, was the warmth that he was held close too. A warmth that made him feel things that were better off hidden deep within. His mother was cradling him in her arms and even though he hurt all over, he couldn't help but feel safe. When she started to run her fingers through his hair, he blamed the stinging of his eyes on the broken ribs.

Luckily, his dreams were blissfully blank. Not even his nightmares made an appearance. Not one to reject a gift, he was content to let himself recover. He would need to incase Ultron decided to go a second round.

He felt weak. Whatever he had been given, it strongly affected his powers. Though they hadn't been suppressed completely, he would be unable to do much.

Peter was drifting between consciousness when the room began to shake. Startled by the sudden sounds of explosions, he tried to sit up only to hiss in pain. Firm arms gently pulling him back into their embrace.

"Easy," Natasha muttered.

He could feel her tense under him as the explosions started to become bigger and more frequent. Things started to get clearer for him when the sounds of fighting started up. His mind pushing past the pain as a fight for his survival started to become imminent.

"It's coming closer…" he grunted out as he began to sit up, feeling her helping him with a guiding hand.

She sighed in understanding, "We will have to fight when Ultron comes for us."

Once he was on his feet, he took a deep breath. Standing as straight as he could without hurting himself, he looked her in the eye. Trying to show her he would fight as much as he could, even when the pain reached agonizing levels. Her grip on his arm never loosening.

"No." She held his stare with a steely glare of her own. "You're barely able to stand, let alone fight off any attackers. When I said _we_ , I meant _me._ "

He wanted to deny her accusation, but when even short breaths made him want to curl up in a ball, he realized she was right.

It was at that moment that he had another life-changing moment. Like all the others in his life, the spider bite, his uncle dying, choosing to put on the webbed mask that changed everything; he came to the realization that he finally had someone who cared about him. Someone who was willing to fight for him when he could not.

He finally had someone to hold him close again. And along with the overwhelming warmth that overcame him, came a protective instinct too strong to ignore.

His hand reached up and grabbed her wrist, holding on tightly as he gazed steadily back at the deep green eyes he so frequently dreamt of.

"You fight, and I'll watch your back." He smirked. All bloody lip and swollen eye, that held confidence.

Natasha felt her lip twitch upwards. If the situation wasn't as dire, she might have laughed at the site. But she could see that he was serious. And for the first time in a long time, she felt proud of her son and the strength he seemed to have. Seeing him stand before her, made her happy.

"We should ge- _ompf._ " Peter blinked. And then blinked again before realizing that his mother had her arms around him and his vision was blocked by a frizzy cascade of red. His face was then pressed into the crook of her neck as she held him close.

She smelt of gunpowder and sweat, but underneath that, he caught the faint whiff of strawberry shampoo.

Slowly, he felt his arms rise on their own, wrapping around her tense frame to pull her as close as he could. So close that he could feel her heartbeat against his chest. After years of not being able to cry, tears began to leak from his heavy eyelids.

Natasha slowly relaxed, her tense muscles going slack in his arms. Her chest shuddering as her breath caught in her throat. It seemed like she was in a dream, and that everything was going to end when she woke up. That he would be torn from her arms as she woke up thrashing, slick with sweat that she blamed the tears on.

But this wasn't a dream, and his steady warmth in her arms proved that. She reluctantly broke away and moved towards the door, discreetly wiping the stray tears from her eyes as she did.

The sounds of fighting were just outside their cell door. Sounds of metal being torn apart followed by the sinister laughing of Ultron. Then all sounds were suddenly cut off.

They stood still, only the soft sounds of their breathing filled the room. Peter glared at the door before his anxiety skyrocketed, warning him of danger.

He stumbled away just as the door shot off its hinges and landed heavily on the floor across the room. He covered his face as he was pelted with the debris and dust of what could have only been a small explosive, causing a few coughs to escape his hurting lungs.

"Natasha!" a man's voice shouted. Firm but with a hint of underlying fear.

"Steve?" he heard his mother question just as a figure covered in the stars and stripes burst through the charred hole in the wall. His large stature taking up most of the opening.

Peter stood completely still, staring at the iconic man that stood before him. Idly taking in the haggard appearance and the missing helmet. He watched as the large man swooped in and pulled his mother into a fierce embrace.

He felt his eye twitch when Captain America kissed his mother before him. But then sighed in resignation.

"Believe it or not, this is not the weirdest thing to happen to me."

Both froze and turned towards him. He almost laughed at the wide eyes and stunned looks but kept his beaten face blank. Which must have made him look pathetic, but he didn't care. This was just a little too surreal, even for him.


	10. Keep Breathin'

**_Panzy strikes again._**

 _ **The fate of our hero hangs in the balance.**_

 _ **This author watches gleefully as you sit at the edge of your seats, dreading the mighty Cliffhanger!**_

 _ **Happy Holidays. XOXO**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I ain't not never own anything. Which means no, for the illiterate. Triple negative equals a negative.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 10: Keep Breathin'**_

* * *

Peter tried to smirk but he was sure it came off as a grimace. As much as he wanted to laugh at the moment, he was tragically reminded of the time Uncle Ben dressed up as Santa one Christmas. It was supposed to be a surprise, but Peter had woken up early and came down to his Aunt May and Santa kissing on the kitchen table.

Needless to say, that year's gift opening was a quiet and awkward affair. He was traumatized and couldn't look at Santa Claus the same way for a long time after that.

He felt like that at this moment but instead of his Aunt shagging Santa Claus, it was his mother and the literal representation of a nation. Which was way worse.

Ugh.

"Uhh….Right!" Natasha was quick to pull herself together. "Steve meet Peter, my _son_."

Peter had to give the man credit when he only faltered for a second before he nodded and turned back to Natasha. The man must be working at miles a minute because he had scanned the room, Peter, and their conditions all while being dropped an apparent bomb in the middle of a dank prison cell.

Natasha stepped towards him and motioned for Steve to follow. She put a steadying hand on his shoulder and presented him to Steve. With the intimidating soldier before him, Peter was able to see a myriad of emotions run through the man's eyes.

He got a front row seat to the confusion, suspicion and finally the acceptance that swirled inside those steel blue eyes. And when the man rose a hand in offering, Peter barely hesitated to lift his aching arms to shake the man's hand. He even matched the man's crushing grip with one of his own.

This was a man who cared about his mother. And however brief he has known Natasha, he was glad to know someone would stand at her side and come to her defense. Even if it was him she needed defending against.

Natasha rolled her eyes and smacked Steve's shoulder. Ignoring the way he looked like a kicked puppy in response. She allowed herself a small smile before preparing herself for what's to come.

"What's happened since I was taken?" she questioned.

Peter watched the man snap to attention, "Short version or the long one?"

Natasha merely raised an eyebrow.

"Right, the short one." Steve sighed. "Those enhanced twins switched sides, Thor returned, Tony created an android named Vision, who _lifted_ Thor's _hammer_ by the way, and Ultron still plans to destroy the world."

Steve was then confronted by two pairs of identical green eyes that stared back at him with incomprehension. He sighed and nodded in answer, knowing that he had no other words for what's happened.

Natasha was the first one to gather her wits. "We need to get out there then."

Steve nodded and they headed for the door, only to stop halfway and look back at the injured teen with them. Peter shook his head.

"Is there going to be a lot of walking and/or running? Because I'm barely standing up right now, and I don't think I'll be much help."

Natasha looked worried, "How far can you make it?"

Peter shrugged and took a step forward, only for his legs to give out under him and send him tumbling to the ground. Luckily, Steve was able to catch him before he hit the floor. Holding the underweight and battered teen in his arms.

"Ugh, that sucked." he moaned.

Steve easily lifted the teen into his arms, making sure to keep him tucked behind his shield as best he could. He glanced at Natasha, nodding his head towards the door.

"You lead," Natasha nodded, sparing a worried look at the boy he held close. Taking note of his eyes clenched shut, she tried talking to ease his pain.

"Already getting the princess treatment, Peter?" Natasha chuckled. "He hasn't even carried me like that yet, I'm jealous."

Peter snorted. "But I barely know him, at least by me dinner first."

Steve flushed as Natasha laughed in response. He could see that they were more alike than he even knew. But he could live with the teasing if it meant they would be more at ease. He felt the teen slowly release his tensed up muscles.

They rounded a corner and ran straight into a trio of Ultron bots. He barely had time to react when Natasha was already moving. Her lithe body pouncing on the bots and tearing them apart. The encounter lasting only a few seconds at most.

Natasha smashed the last robot and turned to look at her boys. _Her Boys._ And nearly laughed at their identical looks of amazement, before continuing on. Only offering a quick smile in return.

Steve was suddenly reminded that he loved that woman. Yes, _loved._ His feelings were all over the place. Part of him still loved Peggy, but this new part of him could only think about Natasha. And as time went on, the feelings only grew. He was hopelessly in love with her now. And he was okay with that.

Fortunately, the rest of the way out of the old base was encounter free. They moved quickly and before Peter knew it, they were outside the old base in the snow. In the _cold_ snow.

He wasn't in Queens anymore.

"Where are we?"

Peter felt the man's firm chest rumble as he answered, "Sokovia."

Which was just _fantastic_. Just another _wonderful_ situation he'd gotten himself in to.

Nothing else was said until they made it to the quinjet. They only took a few seconds to get Peter secured and for Natasha to hop into the cockpit, while Steve looked for a first aid kit.

"Bruce let the Hulk out?" she asked as her fingers glided across the panels.

Steve nodded, "He kicked in the front door."

He crouched before Peter, taking out bandages and applying disinfectant. The teen was really beat up and Steve was impressed with the kid's resilience.

The jet picked up off the ground as sounds of its guns spun up. Peter grunted when the plane shook more than he was prepared for and knocked his head on the back of his seat.

A voice came over some speakers before he could voice his complaint. "Rogers did you find- nevermind. Romanoff, welcome to the party."

The eye patch of Nick Fury came up on a screen in the front of the plane. Peter was suddenly reminded of how the man had been lying to him.

"Director, always pleasant to see you with my own _two_ eyes." she snarked.

Fury only scowled before he looked past her and caught sight of Peter in the back. "I see. Kid, what are you doing?"

Peter got to his feet, feeling Steve guide him towards the monitor. "It needs to be said, that this wasn't my fault. And shame on you, oldtimer."

"Okay, so I lied, happy now?" Fury grumbled. "It was for your own safety and for the greater good."

"Oh don't quote Albus Dumbledore back to me," Peter grumbled back. Shaking his head in denial. "This is not even close to a Harry Potter situation. And you know it!"

Natasha somehow gave them both a stare that shut them up at the same time, saying in an overly calm tone, "Know each other, do you?"

Peter looked away, "That's a trap."

Fury nodded in agreement. But being the adult, decided it was best to get things over with. "I've kept track of him since he was young."

The quinjet swerved dangerously to the right as a blue explosion went off outside the windows. Natasha hit a button and sounds of more explosions followed. Her calm demeanor never faltering in the face of destruction.

Steve really couldn't be blamed for the death grip he had on Peter's shoulders.

Fury scowled, "Reinforcements are on their way, but in the meantime," he glared at the two Avengers, "You both are needed on the battlefield, I suggest to stash the kid and get to it. You have a job to do."

The screen went black and the only the staggered breathing of Peter filled the room. He glanced at Natasha and almost wished they could just leave. But when he saw the fighting on the streets and in the air, he knew that he couldn't hold them back.

He put a comforting hand on his mother's shoulder. Feeling the tense muscles beneath his fingertips.

"He is right, for once." he snorted. "That sneaky bastard."

She turned to him and they locked eyes. A conversation of souls taking place. Steve felt uncomfortable until Natasha nodded, her once impenetrable mask showing another sign of cracking.

Natasha put the jet down in a clearing and then started to grab her gear. Her eyes focused on the weapons in her hands. She was quick to grab everything she needed before she stopped at one of the side walls. A panel filled with guns greeted her, but she ignored most of them to grab an easy to handle pistol and two extra mags.

Walking up to Peter she grabbed his hand and put the pistol in it. Her eyes never leaving his as she did. "Do you know how to use this?"

If he had been talking to Fury, the boy should know how. His grave nod was all she needed. Closing his hand over the weapon, she reached forward and pulled him into her arms. Taking the small moment to breathe in his scent. To feel him in her arms and listen to his heartbeat. Knowing full well that she could never have the chance to do so again.

Sounds of fighting made them break apart, Peter doing his best to stand strong. Green meets green eyes. "This is not goodbye, just a see you later. Yeah?"

Natasha grinned, "Yeah, just a see you later."

She walked over to Steve as he opened the back ramp. Scanning for threats before taking one last look back at Peter, she ran out of the quinjet to join her team in the final fight.

Peter felt his smile slowly break and fall to pieces as the door closed after them. For the first time, he was on the other side of this goodbye. Watching someone you care about to run off to fight a battle that you could not fight with them really sucked.

After staring at the door for what must have been minutes, he finally looked down at the pistol in his hand. Hating what the gun stood for and what it could do, didn't stop his hands from quickly putting in the magazine and cocking the action. Fifteen in the clip, one in the chamber. Ready to fire.

Flicking the safety on, he stumbled back towards his seat. Intent on trying to get some rest and ignore the death stick he held in his hands. Just before he could sit down, the monitor in the front kicked on, showing the irritated face of Nick Fury.

"Kid!" he barked.

Peter sighed, "Yeah, old man?"

"We got new info from Stark, that whole area is about to be lifted into the air. You need to get that plane out of the danger zone."

Peter cursed, his legs nearly buckling as he ambled over to the pilot's seat. When got there, he stared at the many buttons and switches. And he froze. Slowly, he turned to look at Fury. "Houston, we have a problem."

Before Fury could speak, a bang rattled the jet. Spinning so fast he almost fell, Peter had the pistol aimed at the door and the safety off. Another bang had him stepping forward, his eye briefly glancing at Fury's pinched face on the screen.

"Where are the shots of adrenaline and painkillers?" he softly asked.

Fury sighed, his hand pointing off to the other side of the quinjet. "Third panel down, second across. Take twice your bodyweight worth, your powers won't let them work otherwise."

Peter nodded and moved to grab the medicine. Ignoring the steady increase of bangs on the door. Briefly fumbling with the loose medication, he turned back to the cockpit to hold up his finds.

Fury nodded, "Take the adrenaline now, painkillers if it wears off before help arrives."

Peter grinned at the man and ignored the sting from the shot. It only took a moment for his heart to start racing and the pain to ease. "Woah, that's fast. And strong, tell me how far the danger zone is from-"

He grabbed from behind and thrown out of the jet. His body tumbling in the air before crashing hard on the frozen ground. Gasping for air, he made a mental note about his lack of spidey sense.

A group of Ultron bots moved towards him, their sleek bodies quick as they came down on him. Rolling out of the way, he raised the gun and let it bark. Bullets of death cracking against the thin metal of the bots and tearing various circuits from their bodies. Two drop before he has to dodge the charged blasts from another three.

 _Twelve bullets._

Using a nearby rock as cover, he put four shots into another before ducking to dodge a blast at the last moment.

 _Eight bullets, two targets._

"Answer me!" Fury commanded. "Damn it, Peter!"

Popping up, fired at the bot furthest from him, only for it to dodge his first two shots. Clipping it with his third, Peter scowled as he dropped down behind cover once again.

 _Five bullets, two targets._

He popped up to fire again but was sent back under when a dozen more bots arrived at the scene. Their blasts scorching the rock. The rain of fire felt like it was never ending, and he could feel the heat seep through his clothes.

 _Scratch that. Five bullets, fourteen targets._

Taking advantage of a quick lull in their barrage, he blindly fired the last five bullets over his shoulder as he moved position. Only stopping to put another magazine into the pistol. A brief peak over his new cover showed that he had hit two of the bots and they exploded, taking out another five.

 _Damn Parker Luck! Seven targets remaining, Fifteen bullets._

Feeling the ground start to shift under him, he risked a glance at the quinjet. And immediately cursed his luck. Somehow he was further away than he thought, sitting about twenty meters away. And his path was blocked by the remaining Ultron bots and little to no cover left.

With no other viable options presented to him, he went to the worst-case scenario. Which meant he punched himself in the ribs in order for his body to produce more adrenaline to counteract the rising pain. And then he jumped out from behind cover to rush the jet.

 _Did he survive this reckless and stupid action? Yes. How, you may ask? Plot Armor. Obviously._

Peter crashed heavily into the pilot's seat, stowing the pistol behind him in order to have a hand free.

"Nick!" he yelled at the screen. Barely noticing that the man had been yelling at someone else.

"Bring him up on the big monitor."

"Nick," Peter panted. Ignoring the way his hands shook uncontrollably. He was thrown back into the seat as the ground shifted under him.

"Are you alright? Did you get out of there?" Fury questioned.

Peter shook his head, "No! That's the problem, I don't know how to fly."

"What do you mean, you don't know how to fly?" He barked. "You can do everything except fly?"

"I'm sorry that flying was never covered in any of my plotlines!" Peter screamed hysterically. "And even if it was, it wasn't this plotline!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing!" he was thrown around again but felt the earth under him begin to rise up. "Give me a crash course! Quickly!"

"Alright! Turn the power on, the round button- _no_ the _other_ round one. Flip all three of those first switches above your head."

He felt the quinjet start to spin up, but it kept stalling before it completely started. "Why isn't it starting?!"

"Did you press down on the pedal?"

Peter looked down at his feet unbelievably, "This thing has a gas pedal? Why does it have a gas pedal?"

"I'll take that as a no." Fury grumbled. Feeling his age all too well.

"Okay, _Okay, okay, oka-_ press down on the pedal... And it starts! Haha." he cheered.

"Don't celebrate yet, you still need to control it!" Fury reprimanded.

"Right!" Peter did his best to ignore the jet slowly slipping off the edge of the floating city. _Totally not_ panicking at the height in which he was at.

"Alright, now see that lever on the left, _yes that one_ , that one controls the speed. And the joystick in front of you controls the direction. Got it?"

"That seems like a really watered down version of it."

"Got. It?"

"That's a copy."

"Okay, now get off that damn floating chunk of rock!" Fury yelled.

Peter nodded, his heart hammering in his chest. Just as he is about to start flying, the ground underneath the jet gives way and send him hurtling towards the earth. It's like time freezes as he is lifted from the seat and just sort of floats above it. He just sort of watches in an out-of-body experience as the pistol floats past his face in slow motion.

"Eh?"

Then all at once, he is thrown into the roof of the jet. His back slamming roughly against the metal above him. His vision blurring when it knocks the breath out of him.

He idly feels himself be thrown into the seat when the jet flips over. It's only the reaction of his sticking powers that keep him from being flung out of the seat again.

Which means he is stuck to the seat, upside down. And is being shot towards the earth in a metal death trap at increasingly alarming speeds. All while he listens to an angry middle-aged man, scream the word ' _motherfucker_ ' in his ears.

 _Ah right._

Flipping back into the right seating position, he grabs hold of the joystick. Using his strength, he wrestles the unruly jet into a more controlled dive. As he breaks through a cloud, he is nearly scared by the giant floating ship that he falls past.

Glancing at the monitor, he grins at the scowl on Fury's face. "Hey, thought I'd just _drop_ in."

"You're going to crash if you don't start flying instead of making terrible puns."

"Spoilsport," Peter grumbled. Before he turns back to the monitor to peer closer at the screen.

"What?" Fury turns but can't see what he was looking at.

"Is that the original version of Galaga? That's so cool."

"Damn it, Peter! If you _motherfucking_ die, I'm going to resurrect your _motherfucking_ ass and send you back to the _motherfucking_ underworld my _motherfucking_ self!"

"Okay, geez." Peter pushed the throttle and leveled the plane so it was parallel with the ground. "Take it easy on the _motherfucker's_ Nick, it's bad for your health. You need to relax."

"Peter, stop it."

"Come on, say it with me." Peter grinned. " _Woosah. Woosa-_ ope, he hung up on me. Went too far with that one."

The only reason he'd been joking with Fury was that he could feel the adrenaline wearing off and the pain comes back. His breaths became shallow as he felt his ribs scrape against his lungs at every deep breath.

And as the pain grew with every breath he took, he began to get scared. Fear hadn't been something that held a part of him since he lost May. Who had time to fear things when you didn't care about your own wellbeing?

It wasn't until now, that he'd had a future he was afraid of losing. So when he reaches for the painkillers in his pocket, he plans to only take enough to dull the pain and not take it away.

But when he wraps his hand around the pills, the back door is torn off and the main Ultron body comes crashing through the jet. He reaches for the gun but when he cannot find it, he remembers it floating past his face.

"Trying to run away, spider?" Ultron chuckles. His large hands yanking Peter out of the cockpit.

Peter punches up at the robot. Using his entire body to try to fight off Ultron. But his attacks are useless. His fists bouncing harmlessly off the upgraded Ultron.

He tries to bend his body up to get some leverage but forgets about his broken ribs. This causes a white hot flash of pain to burn through his chest. Suddenly his shortness of breath turns into the lack therefore of.

He can't breathe! Air wasn't entering his lungs no matter how many gulps he tried to get.

Ultron notices his wheezing and only laughs cruelly at Peter. "That would be the hole in your lungs from the stray rib fragment that broke off."

The robot begins to cackle, caught up in humor only he can understand. Peter's eyes widen in alarm as he is dragged towards the back of the quinjet. With half his body on the floor, it's by sheer luck that his limp hand comes across the pistol he'd lost.

"How fitting, that I would get to be here for your death. Don't you think? Real poetic."

Slowly suffocating, he holds the gun with a white-knuckled grip. Ultron's voice was grating on his nerves. With his vision blurring, dark spots began to dance across his sight. He was in his endgame now, and with seemingly only moments left to live, he made his move.

He'd rather go out fighting anyway.

Ultron is about to toss him towards the exit, when he leaps upward, using his momentum to take Ultron off balance. Sticking to the ceiling and pushing back off towards the floor, he breaks Ultron's hold on him.

Crashing against the unforgiving metal, he is barely able to pick up the pistol and fire into the back of Ultron. Though the first few bullets don't do much, the rest of them enter the robot and tear him apart from the inside. Which also has the side effect of sending the robot out of the giant hole he had made when he entered.

Peter falls onto his back, body going limp. He'd done it. He'd finally shut that stupid robot up once and for all. It was so quiet. Finally, he could rest.

He barely notices the blinking red light and sirens going off.

His eyes are still locked on the hole in the ship. Watching as the world spun and spun, _hey,_ who was flying this thing? They were terrible. This was the worst ride of his life, let _him get off_.

He never hears the terrified voice of Nick Fury as he pleads for Peter to get up. Never sees the lone tear streak down the man's eye.

 _Make it stop, please?_

But his eyes were _so_ heavy. And they wouldn't stay open. He was so _tired_ and what was that on his hand.

It was wet. And it was _Red_.

 _Red was important. Red was hope. Red was future. Red was..._

"Mom?"

And then it all went black.

* * *

 ** _Since the story doesn't say complete, that must mean that our hero has survived?_**

 ** _Very astute of you, my dear friend. Why yes, it would seem so!_**

 ** _Jolly good!_**


	11. Sunshine and Secrets

_**I'm going to keep this short because this chapter will end the first part of this story. So the author note will be at the bottom.**_

 _ **Read it, or don't. I don't care.**_

 ** _Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-man, Marvel, or any other characters of relation._**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 11: Sunshine and Secrets**_

* * *

It was raining.

Heavy droplets of chilled water splashed relentlessly against the window. The steady pattering against the tempered glass doing its' best to block out the faint howls of a tormented wind - _and save her from dipping deeper into her nightmares._

From her spot in that soft chair, she silently marveled at the conditions. Oddly feeling a connection with the earth she'd never felt before. Because every crack of thunder was like a shout of anger, and every strong gust of wind was like a temper thrown.

And with the monotone _beeps_ that echoed throughout the room, reminding her that her son was hurt so _terribly_ on her watch, she wished she could shoot somebody. _Anybody._

Wished she could just let loose all her pent up emotions.

Natasha _hated_ it.

She'd spent her entire life being able to hide behind a mask. To ignore the pain and shoulder her burdens. Ever since she was a little girl, she had needed to be strong. Needed to be able to fight back and find success. To control the outcome.

Sitting there in that medical room, she found that her control kept slipping out of her fingers as if she were trying to catch the raindrops.

She could catch it, hold it close even; but sooner or later the water always evaporated. Leaving her with empty hands that _ached_ with unending soreness.

 _Natasha hated it._

The overwhelming feeling of helplessness struck deep into her core.

For once, she was lost. Lost on what to do, on how to feel. She felt as if she would disappear under the weight of her own guilt.

As she held the limp hand of her son, she could feel the guilt slowly suffocating her. She tried to distract herself by committing his features to memory. But everywhere she looked, she was reminded that she had screwed up his life and caused him unknowable pain.

Several times she had caught herself crying. Salty tears that would streak down her face from puffy eyes. And she was forced to glue herself back together almost twice that many times.

Her fingers traced the jagged scar that bisected his wrist and she only barely stopped the sob from escaping her. Evidence of his pain laid bare before her, and all she wanted to do was weep.

But she was Natasha Romanoff. The _Black Widow_. The _Black Widow_ did _not_ weep.

Too bad she couldn't convince herself of that.

* * *

"Peter! Come on we're going to be late!"

Blinking abruptly at the call from a long forgotten voice, Peter shook his head. Now was not the time to be daydreaming.

Shaking off the sudden urge to hide somewhere dark and cry, he called back. "Yeah, just give me a minute!"

Green eyes stared back at him through locks of brown hair that kept falling into his eyes. The duplicate of him in the mirror was dressed in a white button-up dress shirt, with several buttons undone, and black slacks. Shiny black shoes glinted up at him from the floor.

 _Blood leaking down his arms._

In his hand was a strip of black cloth that had tried to strangle him three times already. And he wasn't sure he was keen on giving it another try.

Sighing heavily, he put the tie around his neck, hoping he could gain some sudden insight into tieing the damn thing the right way. The internet wasn't helping him at all.

 _The world was ending._

A knock at the door had him swiveling towards it. Standing in his doorway was Aunt May. Peter couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips. Wearing a black dress that went past her knees (and _sparkled, what?)._ Her hair flowing down in chocolate waves, Peter could say with absolute certainty, that his Aunt May was…

" _Beautiful."_

When he was greeted with a stunning smile that made him feel warm inside, he realized he had spoken without meaning to.

"Flatterer."

Offering only a wry grin in response, he reached up to fumble with the tie around his neck, awkwardly showing his frustration with the foreign piece of neckwear. He hated dressing up.

 _Can't breathe. Vision dimming. Everything hurts._

Aunt May chuckled at his exasperation. He tried to glare, but he was sure that only made her laugh more.

"Need some help?"

She was standing in front of him before he'd even given her an answer. Her soft hands untangling the mess he'd made with his tie while also batting away his own hands.

Looking down into her eyes, he was glad to see the happy sparkle within them. He liked it when she was happy. Every time she smiled it was like a ray of sunshine hitting him directly in the face. It always seemed to make him smile as well.

 _Last time he did, he never saw her again._

"I could have figured it out, you know?"

Her smile was a humoring one, "I have no doubt."

Ignoring the fact that he'd spent the last thirty minutes struggling, he continued, "I mean, it's just a tie. It shouldn't be so hard to tie a piece of cloth around my neck."

She didn't answer, merely finishing her work and turning towards the mirror to get a look at him. He was struck by how flawless the tie seemed to be, truly a masterpiece.

She grabbed the black jacket from the back of the chair and helped him into it. Her hands smoothing any crinkles automatically as she looked over him before her hand rested on his shoulder.

 _She promised to never leave him._

Standing in the mirror, they were a striking pair. Their smiles temporarily chasing the pain from their eyes.

 _The pain got worse when he heard the news._

He turned towards her, his hand grabbing hers and giving a reassuring squeeze. "Thank you, May."

 _Aunt May was dead._

She was about to speak but another voice spoke up from the doorway.

"Looking good, Pete."

Peter's head snapped to the face of Uncle Ben. His green eyes wide as the older Parker stepped into the room.

"Uncle Ben?"

 _This was not real._

Ben's smile dimmed as the world around them feel away. Gone was the warm comfort of home and in its place was a clinical coldness of white. Almost blinding in its overzealous radiance.

Aunt May's hand vanished from his grasp, but the warmth of her presence never seemed to leave him. While everything else slipped away from his fingers, Uncle Ben stood steadfast amongst the emptiness.

"What's going on?" Peter croaked.

Ben stepped forward, setting a large hand on the teens' shoulder. Peter couldn't stop himself from folding into Ben's arms, gripping the man for dear life.

 _Ben dying in the street, Peter was covered in his blood._

Tears sprung forth and a sob wracked through his slender body. He tried to feel the same warmth he always got from Ben's hugs, but it only left him colder than before.

 _Uncle Ben was dead. This is NOT REAL!_

Stumbling backward, Peter nearly tripped over his own feet. His emerald eyes glinting in the light.

"Peter, you need to calm down. You're only making things worse."

For some reason, _Ben's_ words seemed to anger him.

"CALM DOWN!? I'M PERFECTLY CALM!"

"No you're not, you're using all caps."

"NO I'M NO-" He gasped as the wind was knocked from his lungs. Peter doubled over, unable to breathe. He could only barely hear Ben curse over the sounds of his wheezing.

For what seemed like minutes, he struggled to take deep breaths. His lungs decided that they weren't going to cooperate with him. While he struggled, Peter took notice of the ice-cold hand that kept rubbing circles on his back.

When he was able to breathe and speak simultaneously, he asked the first question that came to mind, "Am I dead?"

Ben gave a weak grin, "No, but you gave it your best shot."

Peter grunted. He didn't know if he should feel grateful or disappointed in his survival. All his life it had been painful memories lain on top more painful ones. And he wasn't completely sure it was worth it to keep allowing himself to be hurt.

For a while neither of them say anything. It's just the two of them staring out into the open plains of oblivion. When Peter closes his eyes, it's almost like nothing has changed. And that Ben had never died. _In his arms._

Like the times when Peter was young, and his Aunt and Uncle had brought him fishing in order to teach him how to fish. They'd picked a spot in the harbor looking out across the ocean. He remembers gazing across the water as they sat in silence, enjoying each others company. Not knowing and not caring if they caught something, but just enjoying the moment.

Of course, May _always_ caught the most fish. Even if it meant that Ben _lost_ a few while reeling them in. They always just _came off the hook_ whenever Aunt May was having a hard day.

But when he opens his eyes, the painful reality comes crashing back down. Things had changed. And they would never go back to the way things where. Life had taken those he cared about and left him standing in the rain. Lost and alone.

He had thought himself cursed to a life of loneliness, for so long. But then Mercy threw him a possible lifeline. One soaked in blood and weighted down by its own problems, but still a lifeline.

Now he just had to choose if he would grab on and let himself live again.

 _No pressure._

"You're having second thoughts?"

Peter glanced at Uncle Ben only to avert his eyes from the sad look in the man's eyes.

He didn't reply. How could he? How do you tell someone you love that you wish you had died? That you didn't want to have to struggle with the pain _every single day_ of your life, couldn't bear to look at yourself in the mirror for fear of what you might find in your own eyes, and that nothing anybody says can ever change the fact that you _hate_ yourself.

Surely someone else was better deserving of life than he was?

Ben looked sad before a determined look crossed his features, "Come on, I know just the thing."

He grabbed Peter's hand and dragged him towards a white door that suddenly appeared. "What's in there?"

Ben smiled, "A reason to keep going."

* * *

Natasha stared into the white bug-like lense of the red, webbed covered mask of Spider-man as she held it taut in her hands.

A mask of indifference on her features. She didn't hear the rest of the room falling into silence. Didn't acknowledge the tense atmosphere around her.

The thin piece of cloth in her hands felt heavier than what should be possible. _Spandex, really._ As if the burdens of the mask held a physical presence that clung to it.

She felt weak, her hands threatening to drop the mask from her grasp. As it was, she was surprised that she had only slumped back into the soft chair.

Her world had tilted again. For the second time in less than two days, she found her view of the world crumbling down and painfully rebuilding itself.

Peter Parker was her Son. Peter Parker was Spider-man.

Her _Son_ was _Spider-man._

Something or _someone_ was going to get shot.

If she wasn't starting to get upset, she might have found irony in his spider theme identity. _They really were mother and son._

But right then, she could barely tear her eyes away from the white lens to glare up at the foolish mortal who had dropped the mask into her lap. Nick Fury didn't seem to realize she was slowly reaching for the gun she kept stashed under her chair.

"Oh shit."

Wisely, Tony Stark made a hasty exit from the room. He'd only come to bother Fury, he didn't wish to get shot by an angry ninja assassin-mother. He had enough holes in him as it was.

Luckily, Steve stopped her from doing something rash when he grabbed her hand and held it tightly in his own. "How is it possible, some of the things we've seen Spider-man is capable of wouldn't be covered in the Super-soldier serum?"

Fury glanced at the soldier but went back to staring down Natasha. Only nodding briefly at his words. "That's because he wasn't given any version of your serum."

"They were dormant."

Though the words were softly spoken, they felt heavy in the tense room. Fury nodded as if confirming his own theories, while Steve looked confused. Seeing his look, Natasha explained.

"When I finished my training in Red Room, they needed of the graduates to undergo an...experiment. Seeing as I was more independent and old enough, they decided I was the best choice."

Her hand balled up into a fist, crinkling the mask in her grip.

"I went in for surgery, expecting to be sterilized like the rest of the recruits, only to find out I was pregnant with Petrov. Artificially implanted with a genetically modified embryo or something."

Her grip loosened, but she never took her hand away from Steve or the mask. She idly smoothed out the wrinkles she had caused.

"They tried to awaken them but had no luck doing so. It stayed that way when I had left him." She glared at Fury. "What changed?"

Fury sighed, "Truthfully, I don't know. Agent Parker had been tasked with monitoring him for any change, but she died when Peter was nine. After that, I decided it was best to let the kid have a normal life."

"But?" Natasha asked.

"But, he popped up again when Ben Parker was murdered. It was only through the boy's obsession with finding the suspect as Spider-man that I made the connection." Fury sat in a chair on the other side of Peter's hospital bed.

"After that, I tracked his movements and found out that he visited Oscorp Industries downtown a few weeks before he started as Spider-man. Whatever happened during that visit is something only he knows, and frankly, I haven't needed to ask him."

Natasha raised an eyebrow in doubt, but it was Steve who voiced her thoughts, "You expect us to believe that you didn't pry into everything in his life to find the answer."

Fury rolled his eye, "I like the kid, and as long as he stays on the right side, I could care less about how he became an enhanced individual."

"Careful Nick, one might think you actually have emotions with talk like that."

All three of them snapped their heads towards the bed. They were greeted with tired green eyes that held a flicker of humor deep within.

Peter was awake.

And the sun shone brightly once again.

* * *

 _ **Some of you may realize that this chapter was short and kind of choppy in its narrative. That's because I have been stuck on it for weeks and haven't found any inspiration to write this chapter. It just sat blank for the longest time and I didn't know what to do with it.**_

 _ **So if the quality of it seems to be less than usual, that's why.**_

 _ **This is the end of part one. Part one was basically the fall of Peter Parker. How he fell from the happy and witty hero to the broken and tormented boy that he has always been. Everything had been taken from him leaving and it broke him down, essentially giving him a clean slate.**_

 _ **For those who don't understand what that means. Basically, any interpretation of Peter that you held coming into the story has been torn apart into this sad and pathetic version of mine. And in doing so, I'm now able to build him back up into a new version.**_

 _ **A version who is a product of my own machinations. And since I didn't change him to be so different than you're used to, I've essentially taken your idea of what he is supposed to be and changed it to suit the needs of my story. All the while you empathize with his journey to this new place. (Basically, I've given you something to connect too, despite the fact that this Peter is nothing like canon Peter.)**_

 ** _Rather evil genius of me. Don't you think?_**

 ** _Any hoot, from now on will be building him back up into the man and hero he has the potential to be. So stay tuned for the fluff and warm feelings you've all been waiting for._**

 ** _They'll come in bundles._**

 ** _-PB. XOXO_**


	12. Thank you

_Hello all._

 _I had this big letter in mind and was going to start waxing poetry, but then I got sick of it quicker than I thought I would. So, here we are. The final update to Spider's Sanctuary._

 _I know, I know. There is still so much to be written and told. So much you all no doubt wish to see and I must apologize for disappointing you. But this is the end of this story._

 _When I started writing Spider's Sanctuary I hadn't thought anyone would read my work. That nobody would care to take the plunge into a story of my own creation. But, I can safely say that I am surprised and very grateful that you have._

 _It has given me confidence that my work could reach somebody else and affect them in some way or another. And that confidence has helped me gain some in my self as a person as well. I've been a broken person for a very long time and writing was just a way for me to express myself when talking didn't work._

 _Now, the support I've gotten has helped me grow a bit as a person and, though I still have a long way to go, you all have given me something I didn't realize I was missing._

 _Hope._

 _Thank you._

 _I have many different ideas floating around in my head and are just barely down on paper, but expect more stories from me in the future. Along with the great possibility of a sequel to Spider's Sanctuary._

 _I might even write my own book._

 _With love and graditude,_

 _PanzyBears._


End file.
